Tainted Blood
by SPNoelle
Summary: Noellyn has always known she was unwanted. She's always been sickly, always told she had filthy blood. And yet the gods chose her for ascension. What does that mean? Is she dragon filth, or is she redeemable? (I own the character Noellyn, but not the game Rift! Reviews welcome)
1. The Ritual

The five month old babe wailed, the thin fists rocking back and forth while its pale legs pumped weakly. The reedy sound of its cries had no effect on the nearby woman, however. She had tuned out her infant daughter's vocal complaints long ago. She'd stopped feeling the cold of the room along her bare form hours ago. There was nothing else in this room but the book. The book! Her precious book with its secrets and rituals to make her stronger. To give her the power of blood that she so desired!

She caressed the tome's gold-edged tip with a cruel smile, one filth-coated nail marking her place within the pages while her eyes darted back and forth along the words. Her hair, usually a soft golden hue when clean, was just as filthy as the rest of her body. The fetid smell of dried blood, human refuse, and more wafted from her in a ghastly perfume. Lank, coated with blood and grime, her dirtied locks hung listlessly around her thin face. This, too, she had stopped noticing. Nothing had broken her concentration for the past five hours and nothing would. Not until she had the ritual down perfectly!

The components had long been gathered for tonight. The full moon, a bloody ring around it, a cold autumn evening. Venom of a snake and fangs from a basilisk. Poison from different plants. Curdled milk from the milk pod plant. And, most importantly, the sacrifice. That had been the most important of all, though she'd have willingly stolen another Jael babe from its cradle if necessary. Plucked the babe from its mother's teat while it feasted, even, and used it without a qualm of harming the newborn. The gods already knew how much she despised the spawn she'd been left with. She hated it almost as much as she'd grown to abhor the man who had created the brat inside of her.

Rothvyn Jael, guardian, paladin, lord. So high and mighty, refusing to admit to his mistake in bedding a common whore in a tavern one night. He'd flicked her off to return to his pregnant wife. He'd called her a mistake. Even when she'd sent him messages about the child he'd planted in her womb, he had ignored her. Her rancor had slowly grown along with the roundness of her stomach. Vengeance had built in her heart as the infant had suckled from her. She, the child, was a likeness of him. How many nights had she considered skewering the infant through and sending its body to his doorstep? No, it wasn't good enough for him. She deserved a far better revenge, one that would make the whole of the Jael family scream with agony. Then she'd show him. She'd show all of them. Not just a pathetic guardian who had no sense of honor, but his whole family. His wife, his children, and all of his bloodline would die through the poison that she'd infect them with. And his bastard daughter would do perfectly for what she intended tonight.

Why not use the child that had begun this shameful descent to begin with? Why not use that innocence to her will? It was only fitting. The spell would be all the stronger for the blood the infant carried, a direct link to his. It would further the poison's strength as well. And any who did not have the blood of the Jaels, well, she could see to them after. She would have the ability to turn their blood into boiling heat, burn them from the inside, twist their veins and make them scream with pain, bend them to her doing.

Snapping the book shut, she withdrew a silver dagger from the sheath at her leg. Her robes, tattered and dingy, had been discarded ages ago. Like the babe, she must be without clothing for this. She must be as unfettered beneath the moon's eye … and more importantly, to the eye of Akylios. "Akylios," she intoned, her voice rising over the feeble whines of her child. "Hear my plea! Tonight I ask for the dark magics that my ancestors eschewed. Tonight I beg that you would grant them to me, your humble servant. I give you the blood of the innocent, poisoned to filth, so that my blood may be made stronger. I ask that you would grant me the skill of magic to draw at the blood of my enemies and twist it to my will. Make me your slave! Your blood mage!" The dagger made a thin slice into the babe's arm.

The wavering cries suddenly became furious shrieks of pain. Making a similar cut into her own flesh, she pressed her arm against the child's to mingle their blood. "She is of my body and I give her freely to you." Gathering the components, she dribbled snake poison over the infant's arm. The screaming became bubbly and the free limbs began to flail harder when the poison from five different plants was next dripped across the cut. As the infant's skin turned a blazing red, she poured the milk pod's contents across the child's skin. It flowed into the cut, then stirred with the tainted blood to drip to the sides. She grinned. It was nearly finished. Taking the basilisk fang, she stirred it into the blood over the babe's arm, then rubbed it along her own cut. "Blood to my blood, tainted and weakened. Cast your eye over me, Akylios, and give the blessings of blood magic, I ask you!" Her arms raised above her head as shadow shifted, her eyes widening with delight. The moon seemed so much brighter and her skin was warm. Laughter filled the cold room as she curled her fingers up toward that bright beacon.

And then the laughter stilled. The warmth faded from her flesh. Something pulled at her, something strong. Jerking her head toward the infant, who had suddenly gone silent, she realized that something red hung in the air between them. No, not hung there, but was being drawn toward that cut she'd created on the babe's arm. Something had gone wrong. "No," she seethed as she realized what, exactly, had happened. "No, to me," she demanded with wild eyes. Surely she had read the ritual right? Surely she'd followed every step? "Akylios," she screamed, anger rising. "Give your power to me!"

 _"Eloise, stop!"_

The door to the room slammed open, was filled by the armored hulk of the very man she'd meant to destroy. "You're too late, Rothvyn," she hissed and drew the dagger up. If she couldn't have the power of blood magic, then she would strike at him with the very thing he'd created and left her with. The sound of a rifle reverberated as a bullet struck her fist. Blood and flesh slapped into her hair, over her face. She screamed her fury even as she drew the bloodied, mangled flesh against her body. Then, scooping the wailing child up, she moved to throw it toward the window. _Akylios_ , her mind screamed out, _I beg you take this damned child and give me my powers!_

 ** _No._**

She stiffened. Even as something bit into her leg and she was forced toward the ground, the child pulled away from her, she could only hear that voice ringing in her head. Her ears reverberated with the vile whisper, leaving her deaf. Her arms were being pulled toward her back against her will, but she didn't bother to fight them. The child … the child … it had stolen her magic. The child had been tainted and given the ability that she'd begged for. _Why_ , she pleaded within her head.

 _ **You are too weak. What I make will be stronger than you could ever be and will serve me far better than you could.**_

Then the voice faded, the high-pitched screams of the child taking over everything. There was movement, four large guards and Rothvyn binding her with protective magic, forcing her to be still against her own will. As she sank into the darkness of temporary unconsciousness, she could only say, "No, it should have been me."


	2. Unwanted Child

The next afternoon found two men within the gilded office, silent, contemplative. One, an elder man with hair receding from his round face, sat at the gold-leaf desk with his fingers steepled. His watery blue eyes watched the younger man on the other side striding back and forth. Out of armor, Rothvyn was still an impressive specimen. Well muscled, he was the epitome of strength to his peers and lessers. He preferred it so, too. Having their adoration, their respect, it was what he craved as much as the perfect marriage with Vivione, that sparkling, lively diamond of his life. They had three children, his greatest pride, the youngest of which being six months older than the infant that currently lay downstairs in the medical bay.

"Viv can't know, Matteson. No one can know of what's transgressed," he stated with a furious sweep of his hands. His eyes, piercingly blue, like sapphires, was filled with a rage his companion had not seen in some time. All the same, Matteson was not a man to be intimidated. So far, he had held his reserve while his cousin spouted the length of his agitation. The full story had come forward as Rothvyn's guilt had brewed, spilling over into a story of self-spite and discontent.

"Over a year's turn, Rothvyn had taken head in leading the soldiers of Stormfall into a minor battle. Nothing too great, a house gone awry with a small insurgence of dragon-following filth. It had succumbed to the power of Rothvyn's troops easily enough. Rothvyn had been riding high on his pride and glory. A tavern wench had caught his eye as she praised his skill. Among other things. Three month of indiscretions with her had led to a child's birth eight and a half months later, and now Rothvyn was feeling very trapped by his own ego. He could barely accept the child within his own home. Vivione would know. The girl was almost a perfect replica of Rothvyn. Even as an infant, the signs were telling. The deep vee of the widow's peak at the forehead. The thin bridge of the nose and the upward tip. The downward slope of the chin, slight but obvious.

Then there was the birthmark. A very telling sign indeed.

Most children of Jael blood bore a similar birthmark; it was shaped like a dragon's wing. Rothvyn's graced the back of his knee. The girl's graced the heel of her foot. Tongues would wag far too fast. And, truth be told, Matteson needed his warrior cousin to remain untouched by indiscretion. He stroked his jaw with his thumb, eyeing Rothvyn with pale, emotionless eyes. "Perhaps an orphanage would be the best place for the girl," he finally spoke up, tone low and thoughtful.

"After what that b… horrendous woman did to her? They would decimate the child. Destroy her." Rothvyn's face was drawn in horror.

"After what Eloise has done, perhaps that would be best for her. She is marked, Rothvyn. Contaminated by whatever magic was poured into her body. Even now, the healers are working on her and they say there is something wrong with her. Her body is hot to the touch, but she shivers. There is no fever to break. The poison is taking hold of her. She may not make it through the night." The expression on the other man's face was a mingling of hope and fear. Matteson again fell silent to let Rothvyn war with both.

"If she does not survive, then it is the will of the gods and I'll accept that. If she does live…" he swept his fingers through his unkempt blonde hair, pushing it away from his lined face. "If she does live, then she must be kept away from public life. If someone were to find out about her … it could lead back to us." Both men knew Rothvyn truly meant the child could be led back to him. "She's safer within a house, protected, raised as a nobleman's ward."

"She would be scrutinized. What she does, it could not be hidden. Sooner or later, that magic would show itself, and then what? There is still the chance-"

"There is always a chance," Rothvyn interrupted. "A chance that she might be normal!"

"And if she is?"

"Then I will be glad for her. She'll have a common enough life, wed well enough, and have a dowry settled on her anonymously. And if she isn't, if she has been inflicted…," Rothvyn fell silent, pale and shaken. "Gods judge me, they see my sins. I should have answered that woman ages before, but she demanded too much of me. Knowing what I came from, that I was wed, that I refused to break from my marriage. And still she asked – no, demanded, that I accept that child as my own and wed her. Then she demanded coin to keep her tongue stilled."

"Why did you not send someone to stifle her life?"

Rothvyn looked disgusted, even offended, by such a suggestion. "I had hoped by my silence, she would come to understand I was no part of that life and she would forget me, raise the child in anonymity, and I would be left alone. If I hadn't allowed my pride to lead my senses, she'd never have gotten so far into the cult." The disgusted eyes wavered to the book that now rested on Matteson's desk. The stink of Eloise's body seemed to have permeated into the leather and gold binding. "Heretic filth that she is now, if I had known, I'd have taken the babe from her far sooner."

"And done what, exactly? You still haven't an idea about how we're to handle this newborn who is now placed on our hands for protection." When Rothvyn fell quiet again, Matteson added, "She's to be protected within a noble house, away from prying eyes, where a healer may keep an eye on her easily without suspicion being raised. Someone who is able to hold their tongue."

Rothvyn nodded as a heaviness settled over him. "There are none that I would trust with this. None who would accept her once they knew the story." Again, he saw his bright-haired wife, her eyes alight with laughter, the bright red shades of her tresses around her face as she curled into his side after an intense session of lovemaking. And now he saw those eyes dark and disdainful, the trust in them gone and her mouth hardened. He could see her turning him away. The house of Jael looking upon him with contemptuous eyes. His children … his much-loved children, each of them, not knowing him. But there was no place or idea for this new child in his heart. She was not his. She was damned, cursed, and had been unwanted since Eloise had first sent him the news. He had hoped from the beginning that the gods wouldn't allow the pregnancy to follow through. Then he had hoped the sickly child would die. Were the gods punishing him now? Was he doomed to accept the cursed babe and threaten the very strength of his marriage?

"I'll do it."

The thoughts scattered at once. Rothvyn gaped at Matteson, not at all sure he'd heard correctly at first. "Y-you'll-"

"Provided that you, Rothvyn, will pay for her upbringing, that you'll see to the healer and give her a dowry, I will accept her into my home. My wife will be told of her special predicament and the girl will be raised with my own children. As a nobleman's ward."

"My lord, you're the head of Stormfall! Surely-"

Matteson waved aside the intended interruption. "Surely, there is no one better for this. I am, as you say, the leader of this house. Who else would be as fitting? It is my duty, after all, to accept her. She is Jael blood, daughter to my cousin. Her parentage need not be told to anyone aside from my wife, and I trust her implicitly to tell no one. It's my right to take a ward, especially one of poor relations. The mother will have begged me upon her death bed to take the child. And, feeling pity upon the woman, I will have agreed to raise the child in higher society. Where this .. curse came from, well, who is to say? Perhaps the gods work in mysterious ways, Rothvyn. Maybe this curse set upon her was a gift from the gods."

Rothvyn began to slowly nod as he took in every word. Then, flushed with delight, he fell to his knee in front of the desk. "Thank you, cousin. Thank you!" He clasped the lord's hand to kiss it in reverence. "I cannot give you enough words to express my gratitude."

"If you want to express it, do it by leading our men to victory. Do as you've been doing already and don't let this happen again." Steel gleamed in Matteson's eye. "I don't think I can save you from another messy complication, Rothvyn. Mind your family, praise the gods, and remember where your loyalty lies." Withdrawing his hand, he gestured to his cousin. "Now go. I have to see to the prisoner."


	3. Heretic's Death

The cellar was dank. It reeked of rotted food, mildew, decayed hay, and rat droppings. The chill had closed over her skin until her teeth were chattering violently. Couldn't the bastards offer a blanket? Something to cover herself, at the least, such as a shift or robe. All she could do was rub at her flesh in an attempt to keep warm. It was a losing battle. How odd that before, she'd not felt a thing. Here, however, it was unbearable. She had been under the dragon's eye. There was nothing else but the fiery warmth of him surrounding her. With a low moan, Eloise tugged at her arms, trying to will the pain into warmth fruitlessly.

As she paced, her bare feet slapping against the cobbled ground, her mind rolled with vehement thoughts of hatred. If only she had thrown that child. If only she'd had the sense to throw her dagger. It might have pierced Rothvyn in his perfect blue eye, blinding him. Perhaps even killing him. The vicious thought made her grin. Her teeth showed rot, yellow and brown, to match the rest of her grime-smeared body. The feral expression spread as the door to her cell was pulled open, allowing a stranger to enter with two well-armed guards.

Matteson saw that horrid smile first and sniffed his disgust. At first, he stood by the prison door and eyed the filthy woman with disdain before tossing a thin cotton robe at her feet. "Dress yourself," he commanded, eyes briefly averted while the fabric was pulled on. Once Eloise had dressed again, he withdrew the gold-edged book from beneath his cloak. "You were found with this in your possession while in the middle of a ritual. Spilling the blood of the innocent is foul enough, but this book is vehement. The work of the heretics and mad creatures of the dragons. Where did you get it?"

Eloise curled herself under the scant protection of the robe, her eyes bright with hatred and her mouth curled into a smirk. "I'm sure you would love to know, but I refuse to tell you a thing."

"As you like. We can kill you now-"

"No! Not until I see Rothvyn!"

Matteson's hand fell, his expression one of contempt. "You think I'm fool enough to call him into this cell for you to attack him, woman? Would you have me bring the infant in here to allow you to finish what you began, as well? Either tell me where you found this book or forfeit your life now." He studied the darkening sulk build on the woman's face. "Ah, not used to not having your own way, I take it. You always get what you want or what? Do you threaten them with blood magic? Just as you threatened Rothvyn and his family?" Eloise gave a start and he noticed the flicker of surprise. "Your fingerprints give you away, Heretic. Your disgusting smudges are all over this book, within and without."

The book was swung open, pages rifled through until he found the one most smudged by her prints. Showing them to her, he turned the book around again to read it. "The venom from a spiral-tongue snake, five drops of poison from plants. Oh, and you've even written the plants down for me. Very clever. The fang of a basilisk coated with its own venom. Breath from a skink." He continued to read in silence, taking in the ritual. "And here… innocent blood," he read out with a sneer.

"She's mine to do with as I like. She was going to be my way to something far greater," she hissed at him, crouched against a corner. Her hands were splayed against the brick, body tensed, prime for attack. Her eyes were fixed on Matteson's every movement.

"Blood magic." He snapped the book shut. "Did you really think it was going to work? That the dragons would answer your plea? You're small. Pathetic. You're nothing to them. Just as you are small, pathetic, and nothing to me."

Eloise's expression darkened further and she snapped, "I heard him! He talked to me. He told me I would have it all if I gave myself freely to him." She jabbed a finger to her chest hard enough that her nail scraped the skin at her collarbone and drew blood. "I am faithful to Akylios in all ways. He is testing me, nothing more, and he will give me my powers over you. And when he has… you will be the second to die, I swear it."

"Stupid woman, you really think a dragon would speak honesty to you? They are the manipulators, the controllers. They are nothing more than evil and hatred, spreading their darkness over this land." There was deep pity for her now. "You were fooled. You've done nothing more than let your bitterness claim you, turn you into something that can't be redeemed, and now you've used your own child for the dragon's purpose." Matteson moved to leave.

"So kill us, then."

He paused, turned to survey her. Now a mercenary gleam entered his eye. With thought, he said to Eloise, "No, I'll not kill her." The surprise was there again, rounding her eyes, dropping her mouth open. He delighted in it, too. "You see, she is nothing more than a victim in this and can be used for the will of the gods. You, on the other hand, have embraced a life of a heretic. A monster. You are nothing to this world, whereas she can be used for a greater purpose. Your plans and ambitions have done nothing more than become a waste."

He motioned to the guards as he turned his back on her. They scuffled with her, grabbing her arms to bring her down to her knees. She yelled, fought, but Matteson hardly paid attention to her screams of revenge. There was a furious yell from her cell and then blessed silence as her head was disconnected from her neck.


	4. And her name shall be

"What will you name her?"

Rothvyn glanced to the nurse expressionlessly. Then to the child which she held protectively in the crook of her arm. The infant slept now, given a small dose to quiet her fretful screams. She looked so at peace, the picture of serenity. It was only the garish red tones of the mark on her right arm that sullied the picture. That cut made his stomach churn with illness, made him look away from the girl child. Finding he couldn't answer her question, he instead asked, "What was done about the poisons in her system?"

If she was disappointed by his reaction, the nurse gave no sign. She settled the babe into a cradle. "The healer was able to draw out most of the poisons. Granted, they've combined in her system in a rather odd way. It's become part of her blood." He again glanced at her, but she gave a confused shake of her head. No, she didn't understand it, either. "It isn't killing her, but it's not helping her, either. It's as if it's attacking her system, but at the same time sustaining her and helping her to live. I-I've never seen anything like this before."

"No, I'm sure you haven't." He nodded sharply, then glanced to the child one more time. "See that the healer keeps me updated." There was a sternness to his expression as he left the room, waiting until he was a good distance away before he collapsed against the hallway wall.

He suddenly couldn't breathe, he found. Something had lodged in his chest and was fighting against the movement of his lungs so they couldn't inflate properly. He grabbed for his cravat to loosen it, twisting it frantically back and forth. When it was worked free, he pressed the back of his head to the wall and shuddered. His skin was filmed with a light sheen of sweat. What had made him think he could see the child and not be affected? Why had he even thought to go in the room? There was nothing he could do for her. She was afflicted by whatever curse Eloise had set on her. Blood magic. That weight in his chest shifted to his stomach and he feared he'd be ill. "I wish she'd have spared the child and killed it instead," he said, oblivious to the scuffing sounds of his cousin's footsteps.

"Would you," Matteson asked as he studied Rothvyn. "I did offer such a suggestion to you, but you seemed unwilling. Why this sudden change in opinion, Rothvyn? Are you afraid of this girl?"

"Of her? No. Of what she could be capable of? Oh, yes, I'm most certainly afraid." Rothvyn mopped at his face. "Do you really think that woman asked for something childish? What drew me to her to begin with was her wit and cunning. She has asked for something dark."

"So I know," Matteson replied, bored. "And it's my belief that we can use this to our benefit."

"Our benefit! What benefit is there in blood magic? It's one of the vilest magics! It's barely above those who study the art of the dead! She will be seen just as close to a necromancer with what she could do. Do you think she won't learn those arts? That she won't somehow sway them? Use them? What if she turns on you? What will you do, then? Kill her?"

Had Rothvyn truly thought those same questions hadn't run through his mind already? Yes, with potential, there was always threat. He was willing to accept that threat, face it head on, and turn that magic back on the dragons. "Cousin, you wear yourself thin," he admonished. "Put the situation aside. We've decided what to do with her, what will happen to her. Now let it alone and go. Enjoy a drink. Break your fast. Wipe this situation from your mind and prepare to return to your loving wife and children." He paused, considered. "Isn't Terces to turn one today? I'm sure Vivione wouldn't appreciate you missing your youngest child's party."

Rothvyn paled at the mention of his daughter. Like her mother, Terces was a gleam within his eye. But the mention of her now twisted his gut so vehemently. He couldn't endure the idea of his sweet daughter coming into contact with the child that lay in that room. Ever. The sooner he was away from the cursed infant, the sooner his shame could be set aside. His focus should be on his family, he chastised himself. "So it is," Rothvyn growled out with a final push at his hair to move it from his brow. He began to move, but found himself rooted to the spot with his eyes on the doorway to the medical ward. "The nurse, she asked me …" He gave a chagrined shake of her head. "Noellyn. Her name will be Noellyn."

Matteson reared a brow at his cousin's odd reaction, but said nothing. There was only a twitch of the lip to show the humor he felt. "So be it," he said once Rothvyn was out of hearing range. "Noellyn Unth, let's make a story for you."


	5. Seven Years Later

"She's doing it again." The girl before her sneered, hands fisted onto her hips as she glared contemptuously at Noellyn. "Were you hiding again, creepy little ghoul? Trying to hide your shame?"

Though she was only older by a year, Adelyn seemed to hover above Noellyn. At seven, though, Noellyn had remained small, pale, and thin, whereas Adelyn was dark-haired with piercing blue eyes and a healthy glow to her cheeks. And nearly a head taller than Noellyn was. It was no wonder Adelyn was able to terrorize the younger girl. She snagged at Noellyn's blonde hair, giving it a fierce yank to make the other girl squeal, then yanked the book from Noellyn's other hand. "Taking our books as well, I see, and without permission. What have we said about you touching our things, little ghoul?"

"I'm sorry," Noellyn wheezed, her throat clenching enough that she could feel the air sliding roughly into her lungs. "I just ... I just ..."

"I just, I just," Adelyn mocked her, giving her a punch to the chest, causing Noellyn to tumble back. "By the gods, I haven't a clue why Papa took you in. You're such a pale, sickly thing." Her lips curled as she taunted, "I heard Mama say you were tainted. A heretic's filth. Is that true, little ghoul? Are you a heretic?"

Frantically, Noellyn shook her head, struggling to answer her. All she could do was swallow forcefully, her pale blue shift tucked close to her body, her knees trembling beneath its hem. Her lips tugged into grimaces while she hissed, fighting to get at least one word out. This time, Adelyn's hand struck across her cheek, mimicking an action that Lady Matteson often did when Noellyn had displeased her in some small fashion. Usually it was her presence that was enough to result in a strike. "Well, spit it out," Adelyn demanded. "Speak, fool. Or are you so tainted with filth that even your tongue is covered with dirt?"

"N-no," Noellyn wheezed out. Her head tucked down, shoulders raised. She knew what was to come. Adelyn had always delighted in her abuse of the younger girl. If an old dress was to go to Noellyn, she would tear it, destroy it, so that it was useless. She had cut Noellyn's hair on many occasions so that Noellyn was forced to go around with short, uneven locks for many months each time. She'd thrown rotted food at her, and forced her to eat maggots before. There was nothing Adelyn wouldn't do to Noellyn. Except cause her to bleed.

When she had been no more than five, Noellyn had been struck hard enough across the face that she'd hit her head against a brick. She'd been knocked unconscious for almost an hour, but when she'd woken, Lady Matteson had been screaming horrible things at her as she cradled her eldest son. The boy had eventually been fine once he'd seen the healer. But whatever it was that Noellyn had done had frightened everyone into leaving her alone for a month after that.

Noellyn had spent the time in her room or outside the manor, when they'd let her, sitting in the gardens with her feet tucked under the edge of her favorite bench. Of course, Adelyn had soon reverted to her spiteful treatment. If anything, it was worse than before. Soon, Noellyn's bench was no longer. It had been decimated on Adelyn's orders. Then, Noellyn was told she must ask to use anything within the house or be punished. Noellyn was certain that both Lord and Lady Matteson knew of their daughter's treatment of her, but cared very little in interfering. At least the two elder sons, Arikus and Tholden, had been sent away for their protection. Arikus had been unusually malevolent to her at times, up until he'd caused her to fall over and cause the events that had frightened all of them.

Adelyn, however, had taken up where her mother's cruel hand ended. She was intent to cause Noellyn agony in every possible way for having the eldest children sent away. Now all Adelyn had was this pathetic ... thing. Hardly useful as a playmate. Something she complained of to her parents often, and reminded Noellyn of at every turn.

"Pathetic little ghoul," Adelyn stated, slapping Noellyn a second time, then giving her a fierce enough push to cause the girl to fall to the hard floor. She stood over her prey, giving Noellyn a few fierce kicks with the tip of her leather boot, aiming for her back each time. "Maybe if you bruise a little, you'll finally get some color. It'll be about time." She reared back to give another hard kick. This time, there was a crack as the hard wooden sole found Noellyn's wrist instead.

Heat and pain flared together, like fragments that drove from her bone up to her brain and caused a wavering scream to come out. Adelyn stiffened with alarm, but, angered by Noellyn's response, she gave another furious kick to Noellyn's face. Later, she might decry it as an accident, and poorly do so. But it hardly meant anything when blood dribbled from Noellyn's broken lips and nose at a gushing rate. "Shut up," Adelyn screamed at her, rearing back to kick the girl again.

And, as it did before, the mist formed. Adelyn felt heat suffuse her body from head to toe. A weakness stole over her as the mist seemed to thicken, then turn red, as if droplets of blood were forming in the air. The air was suddenly no longer there for her to breathe. She gripped for her throat, eyes fluttering as she fell backward. The small crash of her body seemed so loud to Noellyn, who screamed all the harder, especially when she realized that the blood in the air was congealing around her body. The pain in her wrist was receding as the fractured bone burned all the hotter. She felt something pull at the cartilage in her nose and felt the thin bridge, finding that it, too, burned. But it was straight and seemed mended, as did the cut on her lip.

She whimpered, trying to peddle back from both Adelyn and the thick, red mist that clouded around her. She sucked in another breath to scream - and then new only the dark depths of her mind as she fainted.


	6. Removed

The room was dark. It felt like ink had been poured over the windows to conceal even the smallest straying light from her. When she woke, it had taken nearly an hour to come to the realization that she was in her bedroom, laid on her bed with a blanket tucked around her. Now that she was calmed from her hysterical fit, she explored her wrist. It was tender still, but otherwise mostly healed. Her nose and lip bore no injury at all, however.

She was mystified and, admittedly, scared of what this meant. She'd never heard of a bone mending at such a rapid pace without the skill of a healer's hand. Even then, it took repeated passes of a healing hand to knit the bone back together. It sometimes took up to three days, depending on the severity of the break. This, however, seemed to have mostly mended. Almost to the point of a faint strain on the muscle and nothing more. Had a healer seen to her in the time she'd been passed out? Or had her body mended itself, and the horrific dreams of blood coating her been true?

The harder she tried to bring the whole moment to mind, the more her brain seemed to ache, pushing the memory further away. She sighed, resting back against her pillow, staring aimlessly into the inky nothingness. She listened to her breath, then concentrated on the movement of her fingers along her face to search out for any remaining injury.

This has happened before.

The thought came and went before she could fully fix on it. But it seemed to repeat as she brushed her thumb across the tip of her nose. It had happened before, almost two years earlier when she'd been slammed back and struck her head on the fireplace's brick hearth. She'd passed out, but when she woken days later, she'd had that odd feeling within her blood. As if she was burning from the inside out. There were no remaining pains atop her head then, either. And she'd been sent to her room that very night and not been released for almost five days. Servantshad left food at her door, ignoring any questions she'd thrown at them.

And then a memory surfaced, Adelyn's voice stirring. "I heard Mama say you were tainted. A heretic's filth." Was this true? Was she heretic's filth? Lord Matteson refused to talk of her family. His only answer had been a stifling, "They died when you were young." She'd quickly learned not to ask Lord Matteson questions. Lady Matteson, however, had hissed, "You should be glad they aren't around," in a moment of contempt when Noellyn had asked, at Adelyn's insistence, that she be sent back to her parents' family.

"So, perhaps it is true," she whispered into the night, dropping her hands into her lap.

The door cracked open to allow Matteson in, a candle leading his way. He used it to light the lamps on each side of the door, using green magic to illuminate the room by intensifying their glow. He studied Noellyn with detached expression, taking her in from head to food with no reaction showing what he currently felt. A minute passed. Two. Finally he spoke. "We have decided that you are stifled here," he stated with an air of indifference. "You are young, but you will need to learn how to control your ...," his upper lip curled, "abilities. We cannot have another member of our family harmed."

He didn't have to add 'by you' but she could feel the heavy implication of it in his words."What did I do," she asked him pleadingly.

Matteson paced the room, brushing at dust he found along the wall's wainscot. With a sound of disgust, he rubbed it off his fingertip, ignoring her and her question. When he spoke again, it was with boredom. "You are being sent to a special instructor who may be able to help you with your affliction. I will see to your progress personally." Finally, the cool eyes fixed on her. "You will be kept from others until you have learned to control yourself."

That hurt. More than the slaps and accusations. To be told that she was dangerous and to be treated as such. She withdrew into herself with a sense of horror as she realized she had gone too far. They were getting rid of her. It was a wonder that Lady Matteson hadn't done so before, but Noellyn was sure that Lord Matteson had dissuaded her. But injuring her precious daughter, the only child remaining at home, was too far. Noellyn fought to control her bottom lip when it trembled. "W-when will I be going," she asked, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper.

"Tonight, actually. We have sent word to them, and they are expecting you," he stated. He slid something from his pocket, setting it on the end of her bed. "Your belongings will follow you, though it won't be necessary to have them. They'll dress you accordingly and give you bedding." For the briefest of moments, there was something - regret, perhaps, or sympathy - but as he stepped away from her, Noellyn saw nothing but a blank expression. She was sure to have imagined it. Sliding from the bed, she took the small pocket watch and studied it. "What is it," she asked.

"It's an elven device, magic made," he explained. "You need only open it."

A click of the clasp to open it and she was blinded by the emitted light. She didn't have a chance to suck in air before the world changed around her.

"Ah, she's here."

"She isn't much to look at, is she?"

"Pale thing. Hmm. And small."

"Do you know, I don't think we have any robes that will fit her."

The two voices talked over her, one male and one female. Noellyn was still struggling to fight away the black dots that continued to bloom in front of her eyes. Someone touched her, lifted the hair from her head, then touched her face. She flinched from their prodding fingers.

"Scared little thing, isn't she?"

"We won't harm you, child. We just want to have a look."

"Do the test, Lylis."

"What, right here?"

"Oh, just do it already, you daft woman. No one is out and about this time of night, unless they're thieves or liars." Noellyn's hair was pulled away from her forehead and fingertips placed along the edges of her face. The dots faded, turned a pulsing red. As the hand pulled away from her, she could see a pulsing heart in the palm of the woman's hand. "Arlis, look at this! Blood magic," Lylis whispered. "Then it is true! I've not seen a blood mage in nearly seventy years! I thought that form of dark magic was extinct, but we have proof that it has returned."

"Sister, bite your tongue before it gets away from you. Do you not remember what Matteson said?" The two nodded knowingly to each other. Now that Noellyn could see them clearly, she could make out the points of their ears and their dark features. Both were slender, with round cheeks and chin. Their noses were rather thin for their faces, their eyes wider than she'd seen before.

"A-are you two elves," she asked them, pinching at her bottom lip with her fingers. She was astounded by them, by how musical their voices were, now that she was truly listening. And how they seemed to flow together, one energy, almost like they were one person at times. Both sets of muddy green eyes peered at her, and they answered together, "Half."

"Half?"

Arlis snorted, arms folding over each other so that the lengthy sleeves of his robe folded over each other. Their ends brushed at the tops of his bare feet. He explained in an austere way, "We are of elven blood, but only by half. That in itself is something to greatly prize. Elves are in tune with magic in a way that humans could never fathom. Unfortunately, as our blood is diluted, we could never hope to have the extent of skill that elves have with the ether. However, we still have greater ability than some measly human as yourself."

"Although-," his sister interjected.

"Although," he agreed with a deep bob of his head. "There are some, like you, who have an ability so wild, that it's beyond what most beings are able to comprehend. It's in your blood. Literally." He sounded far too happy with the idea, while his sister looked disgusted with him.

"Really, Arlis," she hissed at him, slapping his hand away before he could touch Noellyn's forehead. His fingers were already splayed out as if to repeat the spell his sister had done. "Stop your foolish prattling and take her inside. You get her food, and I'll see to getting her a robe that will fit ... well, I'll find one that's closest in size, anyway. Maybe one of the dwarven robes can be taken in." She nudged at her brother, impatient, again knocking his hand away. He reluctantly moved forward, grumbling the whole while.

Their abode was small and dingy, with only a miserable fire to give any semblance of light within. Arlis ducked through one of the doorways, disappearing into another room, while Lylis sat her down at a tiny table with a cup of water and an absentminded gesture for her to drink it. Noellyn watched the odd woman wander back and forth, pulling dark garments from trunks to survey, then toss aside with abandon. Finally, a small robe was found, one that seemed it would fit her better than the rest would. Lylis dropped it in Noellyn's lap, then pointed to the door behind her. "Be quick to change. We have to bring it in still, and I don't want to be up all night."

Doing as told, Noellyn swiftly pulled her own shift off to replace it with the thick, dull brown robe. The fabric swamped her, her fingertips barely seen past the sleeve's edge. It puddled around her feet so that she had to haul each side up in order to take a step. Lylis tsked with annoyance and set to task to pin the fabric up until the robe nearly fit Noellyn. "It'll do," she finally concluded after sticking a final pin in place. "Go ahead and take it off. Put on your dress again. You'll have the robe by tomorrow."

As she began to remove the garment, the siblings' soft voices caught her attention. At first, she meant to ignore their conversation, until she heard her name brought up. On silent feet, she approached the door, her ear cocked to catch their words.

"I see why they are frightened of her, having that much power and not knowing what to do with it. Matteson was a fool to take her home, letting her around his family. She could have done great damage. She could have killed them all."

"She seems too weak to do that sort of magic yet. Maybe in time. That's why he sent her to us, after all, to become a useful tool."

"Useful? Dear brother, she shakes if you so much as look at her. I would hardly call her useful. If anything, I would call her volatile. How long do you think it will be before those bottled emotions of hers release into a dangerous explosion? Hmm?"

"Perhaps that's what Matteson will find useful. Who is to say? He acts quite odd about this one, you know. Did you know that he asked for her to personally be kept from Terces Jael? They would have nothing to do with each other anyway, but he's adamant to keep her far from others. Limited contact, focus on her training, and remind her of her duty to the gods."

"He does act more stiff than usual about this one, doesn't he? Usually, he would leave the training to us, never mind what else they did. But this one ..."

"She is an odd one," Arlis agreed. Both listed into silence. Noellyn struggled to breathe, unaware of the tears that slipped down her cheeks. She didn't want to face either of them, not now. She wanted ... She didn't know what she wanted. To leave? Where would she go? How many times had she heard Lord Matteson talk about duty to the gods? Was that why she was here? So they could train her to be something for the gods to use? Would they want such a dirty, tainted thing as herself?

Reluctant, she left the safety of the dark room and let Lylis fix the robes to fit her properly, the end cut and mended up so her feet would be unimpeded by excess fabric. All three were quiet through the ordeal, until Lylis had finished her revisions. "There," she told Noellyn finally. "You're finished. Have your meal, then take to the bed upstairs. In the morning, we'll take you to your new room. We can discuss the rules, then, and go over your training."

Neither sibling looked at her as they took to their rooms, leaving her behind in the dim room by herself. She nibbled at her food, finding she had no appetite. The bread was too dry for her throat, the jam too sweet. She could barely swallow down the rest of her water.

Would she meet new people tomorrow? Would they treat her the same as the Mattesons had? Or would they know nothing about her vague past? Would her pale features disgust them the way it seemed to have done Adelyn? Would they despise her, torture her? Dread curled in her stomach as she slipped from her chair, treading upstairs to the bed she'd been assigned to for the night. Tomorrow would come far too soon for her liking.


	7. What Am I?

The next day was nothing but more confusion. She had been introduced to a handful of classmates, all of them older than she, and then had been shown the small hut that was hers alone. Inside was a small bed, a table with a lone chair, and a trunk to place her robes in. There were shelves for her other belongings, though what she had seemed so sparse compared to the space she was given. A single lamp on the wall lit the minimal room. It was less space than her previous room, and yet it felt more like home for her.

She was assigned to two different teachers, whose sole purpose was first to teach her how to weave the aether and harness it for her use, and then to control herself so she didn't let her ability control her instead. The discussion of magic, of weaving, of everything only left her feeling as though they were speaking in elven to her.

At the evening meal, she felt all the more left behind as the older children joked and teased each other about their lessons. "Gretta was turned into a chicken this time," one of them taunted across the table to another, prodding the girl who was apparently the subject of someone's prank. The girl returned, "At least I wasn't a smelly pig like Agnon." And so the joking went. Noellyn watched the lot of them with awe, quietly eating her food, then cleaning her utensils before returning to her little hovel.

Once evening had finally settled over the quiet community, Noellyn sought out her new teachers. She was anxious to learn more and deeply afraid they would be restrictive in what they told her about her unique ability. With the assistance of the still snorting Agnon, she found Mistress Merithyn's hut. The female dwarf was short, stocky, and had tendrils of hair growing from her chin in pretty curls that were lighter than the chestnut locks that framed her round-cheeked face. She should have looked friendly. It was the hardness of the dull brown eyes that offset her features. However, she hadn't seemed boorish with her pupils through the day's lessons. She'd been strict, but seemed fair in her dealings.

"Pupil Unth, you're about late this evening. I would presume you'd be in your hut, testing your abilities. Do you feel as if you learned too little to start with?"

In truth, she felt overtaken by what she had learned about magic. There were different branches, different abilities, and it all depended on how you pulled at the aether. Or how it pulled at you, in some instances. There were circumstances where the magic could control you. It seemed her abilities were currently fixated in that state, and Mistress Merithyn had suggested she attempt to conjure her ability herself by trying to cut her finger and conjure blood to mend the wound. While she was hesitant to injure herself, even with a tiny nick, she craved information that the siblings Lylis and Arlis had refused to give her.

"Mistress, I thought ... I hoped maybe you could give me more information about what I can do. It's the first time anyone has told me anything about it," she explained, studying the dwarven female's face, reading the expression there. Shock, then irritation, before calmness finally settled on Merithyn's face. She reached past Noellyn to thump the door shut, then jabbed a thumb into the young girl's back to move her forward. "Under the light where I can see you," Merithyn growled. "Never understood Mathosians and their capability with holding secrets. What's the point, I ask." Noellyn understood the mistress wasn't speaking to her, but grumbling at random.

A heavy tome was found, drawn, and thumped onto a nearby table so Merithyn could read out to her, "Those who master blood hold singular control over the entire spectrum of mortality, from life to death. A skilled blood mage should never be crossed, for they can drain the very life from their opponent and boil the blood until the body has exploded. An ally to a blood mage knows the purer side of their skill, for they can share life essence." The book was snapped shut and Merithyn's dark eye pierced the gloom of her hut and straight into Noellyn's soul. "Now d'you understand why the others are 'fraid of you, girl? You got a dark magic, one that turns a person. They're all scared you mean to blow them up if they so much as look at you wrong. Of course, none know you ain't mastered it yet." The last word lingered as Merithyn stroked the curls along her chin. "Have you ever tried it, girl?"

Noellyn was quick to shake her head. "I never knew I had the ability until I was five, and I-" she stopped, tensed. "I didn't know what happened at the time. I still don't know. At least now I can understand why they're so afraid of me." And didn't that give the slightest thrill? For so long, she'd been at the mercy of the stronger. Here was Mistress Merithyn telling her that she had power, though untapped, that she could control with time and effort. She could be dangerous - was dangerous already, though unintentional.

The dwarf's stubby fingers continued to run along her squat chin, the pale curls tangling around her fingertips. "Have you ever tried to make it work before?" Noellyn swiftly shook her head. "Here's the thing. You know it's in you now, and you know what it is. Only way you're going to get it to work for you is if you play with your own blood." When she saw the child's face pucker with disgust, she chastised her with, "Don't be squeamish. It's your life essence anyhow. Menders endure it, why can't you? Besides, it belongs to you in the first place. No such thing as magic words or wands that are going to make it happen. You got to learn to focus and go from there."

Her disappointment must have shown, because Merithyn scowled, reaching over to thump Noellyn hard atop her head. "You thought you had an easy task ahead of you? Use your common sense, child. This is a lifetime of learning. Now get to bed."

Once in her room, she sat cross-legged on her bed, hands settled palm up on her knees, studying the light trickle of blood spreading across the meaty flesh of her palm. She focused on the drying blood browning her skin, brows pulled together, mouth tucked into a moue of frustration. Nothing had happened except for the dull throb of the wound aching. She smeared the thin smear onto her dress, then balled the hem of her robe up in her hand to help put pressure against the wound as she laid back. Her head ached immensely from focusing for so long, and her anger was building. How was she to succeed when she hadn't the faintest idea of what she was doing?

To add insult to injury, some of the older students had begun to call her the blood witch in her hearing. How they'd found out, she couldn't know, but the sting of the insult drove at her heart harder than it had before. She'd escaped her miserable life, come to the academy against her will, and thought she might still have a chance at a fresh start. Now, with one word, those hopes had been dashed into nothing.

"Why are you even sulking," she asked herself, yanking her pillow from beneath her head to toss across the room. "It isn't as though they'd like you anyway. They're older and know how to do magic. You're nothing. Pathetic. Stupid." Tears were streaming, but she ignored them as that little ball of anger flared into a kindling rage. "I hate them. I hate them all! I'm glad they don't like me!" Her hand was throbbing harder. She didn't notice it or the build of heat stretching up her arm. "Stupid, scared heathens. I could hurt them. Someday I'll know what I'm doing and I'll hurt them," she told the dark room, her voice quavering with her temper. She was blinded by her tears as they trailed back along her cheeks to find and dampen her ears. "I hope they stay scared."

She winced when the throb coursed along her arm, almost to her heart. Lifting her hand from the depths of her robe, she stared at the injury she'd made only to suck in a sharp breath as she noticed the fine red mist. As it tried to attach into a more dense pattern around the wound, she blew at it, eyes again narrowed as she mentally pushed at the mist to flow away from her. She gasped again when it actually shifted away. It was a small movement, barely discernable to her, except she noticed how the mist flowed around her fingertips before dissipating. Her breath came in harder rasps as she tried bring the mist back into formation. For nearly thirty minutes more, she tried until the headache finally took her over.

Curling beneath her covers, Noellyn clutched her injured hand to her chest. Now that her anger had been expended, there was an emptiness there that left her feeling hollow and afraid. Her emotions had never been controllable, but now they felt farther out of range than before. She felt alien, disjointed. "What am I," she asked the darkness. Silence met her question and carried her into sleep.


	8. The Not So Unexpected Visit

The more that Noellyn's self loathing built, the more her temper became erratic. She kept to herself, her hair often tangled into knots that she cared little about. The smell of blood wafted from her, evidence of her repeated attempts at mastering her ability, and added to the imagery of the blood witch. A month of her petulance was too much for Merithyn to take. "Get yourself off and clean up. I don't want to see you until you've cleansed away the dirt from your body, you miscreant child."

So, Noellyn took to hiding inside her little room, ignoring the repeated instructors' visits to admonish her. Nothing they said made a difference to her. She was beyond them, not connected to this place or life any longer. After another month's attempt to get her to come outside, they altogether stopped. She thought they had finally given up on her. She was relieved by the idea. She wanted nothing more than to finally be left to her own devices, trying to understand what it was that her body could do. The mist that she'd created that second night had now spread itself out. The angrier she'd become, the hotter the mist had turned, and she'd singed her hand in response.

When morose, the blood tended to coagulate in her palm instead, turning into a rusty brown lump of nothingness. She'd thrown it away, that useless lump, and curled into her bed for two days, refusing to eat until the third, and only because her cursed body demanded sustenance. As far as imprisonment went, it was hardly what she'd have chosen. There was only the one book, which she'd attempted to read five or six times before giving it up as too advanced. There was no window, only the door, and a lamp to give light when the candle was lit. Her meals were brought thrice daily, silently set on the lonely table tucked into the corner of the low-roofed room.

For the most part she ignored them, more wound up in her own woes. The idea of leaving had flickered back and forth, the urge to find her true family so prominent that she'd almost taken a step outside the door before remember that she hadn't the vaguest clue of where she was or who her family was. She was alone, no one cared about her.

Yet, when she woke almost three months into her personal moratorium, she was far from surprised to see Lord Matteson sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her with a cool expression. This was perhaps the closest he had been to her that she could think of. Still, it had not effect on her in the least. She merely pulled the covers over her head, turning away from him.

"You have always been an insolent child," Matteson commented, bored already. Noellyn tucked the covers tighter around her in a refusal to respond. He talked nonetheless. "You always had some comment to make, something to say when you were given an order. You balked at the lessons we tried to give you. I should say I'm not in the least surprised that you are again being problematic, but I am disappointed that you are."

Anger burned. She slapped back the covers, livid, as she retorted, "You don't have a right to be disappointed. You never wanted me anyway. You got stuck with me."

He raised a brow at her lashing out. "So we were. And yet, we gave you clothing, a warm bed and food. We saw to it you were raised with our children."

"Your children hated me and hurt me. You and your horrible wife did nothing about it."

Finally she saw she'd struck a chord. Annoyance formed a line between his brows. His mouth twitched beneath the thickness of his mustache. "You shouldn't speak so ill of your benefactors. There will come a day when you're grateful-"

"Why would I be grateful?"

"Do not interrupt me." His hands clutched down on the head of his cane. "You will be grateful to not have lived the life you might have lived, had it been your mother's way." He paused, waiting to see if her interest was caught. She'd gone silent at the mention of her mother, her head raised from the pillows. Nodding, see he'd succeeded, he continued. "It was another's wish that I not share this story with you. However, I believe you are at the age that it's imperative to share with you the truth. Your mother was a heretic, she seduced a lord and impregnated herself intentionally with the intention to sacrifice you. In return, she asked for dark arts from an even darker source." Again he halted, this time to smooth down his mustache as an excuse to calm his own temper.

"She was found out before you were sacrificed, and your father sought for. He was unable to take you, and so it fell to me to take you in. We watched you patiently to see if the dark magic would affect you. When we learned that it had, we sought to find some way to free you of it" His fist punched into his palm, a bite of anger tinging his voice. "We sought the best that could be found, to no avail.. Such a task has proven to be impossible. It came to realization how dangerous you truly could be without proper knowledge of what you are, what you can do. This school seemed to be the best alternative."

His icy eyes fixed on her, pinning her in place. "You may have been cursed, but it is by the gods' will that you live, Noellyn. You should be thankful for their mercy. They protected you from your mother's vile intentions. They led to your rescue. Your father bestowed upon you funds to see to your comforts once you have graduated from the academy. However, should you refuse their teaching, you are welcome to instead remove yourself from here and make your own way. The choice is ultimately yours."


	9. Recht

It took days after Lord Matteson left for Noellyn to emerge finally from her cocoon. Once he'd gone, she had taken apart everything that he'd told her, and then tried to fit it back together in between the pieces of the dream family she had created for herself. And every time, the picture would crumble. They had not wanted her, she finally accepted. She had been nothing to them, and was even less to Lord Matteson.

The urge to leave the academy finally died with that last tenuous grip she'd held on her dreams. With it came a confidence, however. When she cared less about what the others thought of her, the more she put effort into what she could do, and who she could be. Years passed as she struggled to master what she was and did, with irregular visitations from Matteson. As before, he would remind her that her duty was to the gods - "It was their mercy, Noellyn. You are meant to serve them, as we all are." His visitations became more varied as word of dissention spread across Telara. There was word of battle as rifts began to open, the influence of the dragons, and it was spreading in their direction.

Noellyn took little notice of such things. It had nothing to do with her, she felt. Why should she care, when most of those she knew had turned their backs on her? Her focus was fully in experimenting with her magic. She had become adept at healing physical wounds, and could blister her own skin. The first time it happened, the pain had been excruciating enough that she'd fainted. Her body had eventually healed itself, but she'd learned after that to be cautious in what she tested on herself.

Then there was the hunt. There had been a nearby goblin infestation, greedy little humanoids who would creep into their school to steal what they could. The students had been sent on a hunting mission with four of the instructors. Noellyn had never focused her magic on another living being until then. One of the goblins had come around and leapt at her from behind, taking her down, clawing at her relentlessly. She'd screamed, but no one came to her rescue. Not that she'd needed them, because as soon as her blood was on the goblin's flesh, it began to sizzle. Blisters spread over its mottled gray skin, eating away as the blisters elongated. The creature had died when the pustules began to burst, layering her and those nearby with fluids that Noellyn never cared to remember again.

It had taken extensively longer for her to mend herself - she'd been adamant about doing so, too. After all, she wanted to be self sufficient, and she would never be able to do this if she depended on others to mend her injuries. She became a regular on the hunting party after that, and finally made her first friend at the age of fifteen.

His name was Recht. He'd been there only two years so far, but he tended to keep his distance from most people. It wasn't that he wasn't friendly. He was more interested in searching for herbs, or drawing in the books he often carried with him. She'd secretly admired his skill when she'd seen glimpses, but never attempted talking to him until they'd both been sent off to hunt together. Because Recht was seventeen, and they were only inspecting around the borders of the village, it was deemed unnecessary that they be accompanied.

Neither had talked while they moved in slow increments along the high brick walls of the academy. They searched for footprints, mashed plants, anything that might give a hint to a recent goblin. They didn't find anything for nearly an hour until they came close to the thin stream that separated the academy from a copse of forest. Recht nodded in the direction of the woods, suggesting, "Think we ought to throw something over the stream and see if there's anything on the other side?"

"Whatever for? If they're there, then they would know not to react."

Recht chortled, already pulling a mushy apple from one of the bags on his belt. "They aren't all that smart, truthfully. They can think, but it takes them hours on end to remember their own names," he explained, then reared back to give the apple a toss. There was a thump, then thrashing of bushes as two angry goblins reared from the underbrush with weapons in hand. One attempted to shoot an arrow at them, but it landed feebly in the water. Recht laughed all the harder, ready to toss another apple. The goblin had another idea, however. He reared back with a spear, tossing it with all his might. The handle was shoddy, made of rotted wood. The tip was made of metal, so it struck Recht's hip hard enough to knock him down. The handle splintered into pieces until only a five inch piece remained jutting out of his flesh.

"Hold still," Noellyn told him, even as he fought to heal himself without pulling the object from his body. She braced herself in front of him protectively and fixed her attention on the dancing goblins, who screamed at them in their garbled language. They continued chucking items at them, but without their spear, they had nothing to cause damage anymore. Noellyn tried to collect her focus on the one who'd injured Recht, her brows knit and fingers digging into her hips.

Nothing happened.

She tried for a minute further before Recht weakly told her, "I'd rather not bleed out right here. Can you help me up to somewhere safe?" In disappointment, she tucked his arm around her shoulders, helping to lift him up.

SMACK! The rock came from the other side of the stream, slamming into her temple. She fell back against Recht, luckily avoiding the spear's tip as she rolled away from him. Pain throbbed fiercely in her skull when she sat up to glare at the annoying creatures still harassing them. She stretched her hands out as the next painful throb brought her temper forward, and brought her hands into a hard fist.

This time, the whole of her body throbbed, and the goblin's face began to turn bright pink. He roared, screamed, yelled, banging his head against the ground as his body's temperature raised. His companion screamed when he realized Noellyn was doing something, and rushed away with his gangly arms flailing in the air. Noellyn barely noticed this - she felt the heat inside of her own body, could feel her blood trickling down her cheek, and could feel the essence of the goblin calling to her. She could almost see his heart pounding harder as the fiercely hot blood pumped through him, burning him from the inside as it began to scald.

He fell back, twitching, his innards bursting out as steaming blood trailed from his eyes, ears, and mouth. Noellyn felt the blood still so it could begin coagulating within him, and finally released her fist. Her nails had bitten into the flesh of her palm, leaving deep enough scores to make herself bleed as well. Releasing a hard breath, she quickly turned to help Recht, who was pale and shaking. "I've never done this for anyone else," she told him as she grabbed hold of the spear tip. "On three - ready?"

He nodded, braced as she wrenched the tip out of him. His hands quickly braced over hers to stop the flow, but she could tell he was struggling to heal himself. "I've never done this," she repeated, shaking, afraid. "You shouldn't have thrown that apple, you stupid boy." His eyes rolled as if he were trying to laugh in response. Her hands spread out and she fixated on the heat of his blood. With her eyes closed, she tried to pull at it so it would congeal and hopefully mend. Minutes passed, and her head was killing her, but she finally felt the ebbing pull begin to restitch his flesh.

Recht's eyes were barely opened, but he was awake, and staring at his wound with disjointed fascination. "It won't completely mend," Noellyn told him shakily, "but it will be enough to get you back to the academy. Just give it a minute or more." When he tried to nod, she chastised him, "Don't move. Just relax. I'll keep an eye on everything."

"You're still bleeding. Did you know that?" He pointed weakly to the lump that had formed on her forehead. "Looks like it hurts."

"Don't talk either," she answered. "I'll, uh, have it looked at later. When I've rested." She dared to prod around the area, wincing with each touch. It had been hard enough to bruise her, and leave a cut at her temple, but not enough to explain why her head ached as much as it did. She wanted nothing more than to lie down so she could sleep it off. Of course, such a thought was dangerous. What if the goblin came back with more friends?

They'd already been out here long enough. Reluctantly, she pulled herself back to her feet to help him up. "I know it hurts," she said when he groaned at the pull of flesh. "The menders will be able to do a better job on you when we get back. We'll have to take it slow, though." His answer was a weak moan and a nod. His arm clenched harder at her shoulders to keep himself from falling over. Bracing him with her arm around his waist, she forced him into movement. "Don't worry. It's only thirty minutes away."


	10. Aftermath and Punishment

"Of all the irresponsible things you could have done!" Lylis paced around the room, her pace as frenzied as the movements of her hands. She was full of frantic energy. "He could haved died while you tried to apply your magic to him. Worse, you could have killed him with your-"

"But I didn't-"

"But you could have!" Lylis nearly screamed the words at her. Her wide eyes seemed all the wider in her fury, the irises mere pinpoints of wild color. "Not once did we tell either of you to attack anything while surveying the area. I don't care who it was who threw the apple," she cut Noellyn off when the girl would have argued. "You should have known better. Common sense would have said to run for assistance immediately. Yet, you two fools stood there, open targets, and now Recht is in the healing ward for a side wound that could have turned out deadly."

The teenager shrank guiltily into herself, making Lylis want to shake her harder. She stared at the golden head that had fallen forward, took note of the few tears that had slipped down Noellyn's cheeks. "Got the point, did you? Good." She finally came to a standstill and still trembled with furious energy. "For your punishment, you'll be cleaning dishes for the remainder of the month. You will no longer be joining on the goblin hunts, so you'll have extra time to work with your hands and elbows on cleaning up the eating room, underside of the tables included. In your spare time, you will be working with me on concentration. If you mean to use your abilities, then you are going to finally learn how to use them, and not toy with them!"

Noellyn nodded meekly. Lylis made another round about the room, trying to calm her frayed nerves. Since Noellyn had helped Recht stumble in, she had been nothing but nerves. The boy had been her responsibility since he'd been sent to them. Now, Lylis felt she'd let him and her best friend, his mother, down. A small part of her tried to understand that Noellyn had tried to help. She had mended his injury enough to keep him from bleeding out, something she'd barely succeeded in doing for herself. That was some form of forward movement.

That tiny thought was squashed out by the maternal feelings Lylis endured for Recht. She is dangerous. She could have hurt him. Emotions were overcoming rationality, a curse from her human side. Lylis struggled for calm. "You are dismissed," she bit out with a finger pointed to the exit, eyes squeezed shut.

"We need to speak of Student Noellyn," Lylis said to her brother hours later. The day had finished and he'd returned with his crew of student hunters only minutes before. His brows loped up, then fell complacent as he followed her from the practice ground to their shared home. He worked his boots and socks off, and waited for his sister to stew in her thoughts.

"I think she should be removed from the other students to train alone," Lylis finally said.

Arlis again reared his brows. He stayed silent, thoughtfully watching her agitated movements, watching with curiosity as a full head of steam built. She'd explode soon. She always did. Then she would move to rationality.

"She is going to kill someone. She has a violent power with no idea of how to use it. Hence, when she does, she becomes dangerous - even if unintentional, Arlis. She can't be kept around the others until she has learned what she's doing." Lylis clamped a hand around her throat to withhold a sob. "She doesn't even understand what she's done, either. No matter how I try to get my mind past it, thinking that she tried to help him, she could have done far worse. She could have made him bleed out."

"Who," he finally asked.

"Recht. She ...," Lylis paused to draw in a deep breath. "They were sent out today to do some goblin hunting. Recht decided to fish one out by throwing some apples around. I don't suspect he thought he'd actually get one, but he did. He found two of them. One had a spear and got in a lucky shot that pierced his side." Lylis had to flex her hands to stop her nails from biting into her palms. "She somehow caused one to - to explode. The other ran away. She should have helped him back, or run off to find help instead of trying to heal him. She was lucky that she stopped the flow of blood at all, but now he'll need to recuperate."

Instead of turning to a rational turn of conversation, she began to pace. Arlis watched with open concern as her speed increased. "So your decision is to cut her off from everyone," he asked her, incredulous. "Lylis, stop. Stop!" He had to shout the word at her as he grabbed at her shoulders to still her. The muddy eyes so like his own were damp. "I understand your concern for Recht. He is near like a son to you as your friend is as close a sister as you will have. He is seventeen and soon will face the war that has begun, and there's nothing you can do to stop him. Your only censure toward this girl is that she didn't protect him, and don't shake your head at me, saying it isn't. I know you, sister. If she had left him, the goblins could have killed him."

Lylis interjected, "If she had found someone once the goblins were gone-"

"Then they could have come back with more and killed him," Arlis rationalized. "If she had helped him back as he bled, then an animal could have caught his scent and killed him. Or he could have bled worse and died on the way back." When Lylis moved to object again, he squeezed her shoulders, then shook her gently. "There are too many what if's in this situation to decide what the right decision is. You will have given her punishment already, yes?" When she nodded, he released her. "Then let her do her punishment and let it be. To restrict her from the others will only shame her, and in time the buds of hatred would grow within her soul. Matteson already had a heavy hand in that action. Don't add to it, Lylis."

Whenever she had felt pain, Noellyn had made it a habit to retreat to her bed. This time, her shame was deep enough that she refused to take the easy path out. Instead, she sought Recht out. He was in a deep sleep when she finally found him, surely under the influence of a sleep potion to help his aching body mend without his suffering the repercussions of it. She sat at the edge of the bed with one hand set over his. Her misery ate at her while her eyes traced over his young face. His hair, sandy brown, fell in a soft curl across his forehead. It gave him an expression of innocence that was quite false. She knew him to be a jokester, always with a gleam of laughter in his eyes. There was no dirt on his thin face like there usually would be when he was digging up his plants. In fact, they had taken care to clean every bit of blood off of him, then placed him in fresh white garments with his middle bandaged up while the healers took time to stitch his injuries up.

In fact, he looked too clean, too pure. Noellyn stared at their hands, noting the grime and blood that still coated around her nails. She looked utterly filthy against him, in fact. She retracted with a wince. It was her fault he was in here. She hadn't been able to save him, and the damage was deep enough that the healers had no choice but to mend his internal injuries with care. They were mindful of potential sickness and other complications - those that Noellyn could have created by using her wild magic on him.

Why did she bother to come see him? "Filth," she hissed to herself. "Dirty, disgusting monster." How often had she been called that by the others? This was the first time she truly believed it. There was a sharp intake of breath from Recht as her soft words stirred him from sleep. With a dreamy smile, he cracked his eyes open to squint at her. "Hey," he sighed out. He shifted toward her with one hand sliding out across the sheets.

Noellyn ignored the hand, her smile strained. "I was just coming to check on the damage. I was told it was severe enough, with all the blood you lost."

Recht worked out a weak laugh. "Yeah, I gave it to the goblin for the spear."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed again and mumbled, "The spear for the apple. Had to throw to get it." He was already dozing off again, his mouth cracked open. With a flush of guilt, she ran her hand across his arm, whispering down to him, "I'm so sorry. I won't ever do that to you again."

"I don't blame you." Perhaps he wasn't as asleep as she'd thought, after all. "I threw the apple. Got two of them, hey." The corner of his mouth crooked. "You were brilliant."

When he didn't add more, Noellyn patted his arm to confirm he had definitely gone to sleep this time. "Thank you, but I blame myself." Frustration tinged her words as she continued on talking to him. She had so much bottled inside her with no one to talk to that it was spilling out now. "I keep trying, but Lylis watches me. She thinks I don't notice when she does it, but she thinks I'm dangerous to everyone. She doesn't really like me being around. I think, if she knew back then what she knows now, that she'd never have allowed me to come here. Maybe I am dangerous.

"I don't know what I'm doing, and it isn't like Lylis can teach me. Merithyn has an inkling, but she struggles with me. I can tell she's frustrated. No one knows..." With a sulky grumble, Noellyn kicked her toes against the floor. "I don't even know. I can't ask anyone here, either. I feel stuck, like I'm the idiot in all of this. I don't think that's true, though. It's not that I'm stupid. It's that no one here knows what to do with me. They don't know how to teach me." Something finally struck in the back of her head. "But I know who might be able to."


	11. New Instructor

"I need another instructor."

Lylis raised her head to peer at her student. "I beg your pardon?"

"I need another instructor," Noellyn repeated. There was a hard determination about her, one that put Lylis on edge. "Everyone here tries to tell me what I should do about learning, but no one here really knows what I can do. I'm not getting the help to control this that I need."

"Maybe if you applied yourself more-"

Noellyn interrupted her with a swift, "Then maybe Recht wouldn't have been hurt by me? That isn't true, and I think you know that. I know you don't like me. I don't care. You know nothing about me except what Matteson has told you. Again, I don't care. What I do care about is that I learn what I need to so what happened to Recht doesn't happen again to others that I care about."

With an arch look, Lylis commented, "Then those you don't care about should have a great fear of you." When Noellyn said nothing, Lylis felt a tinge of worry. This is what Matteson feared, wasn't it? This girl's turning to a darker path, giving into the call of Akylios - it had weighed for so long on Lylis' mind. "Very well, what sort of instructor do you feel you need?"

"I need someone who is skilled in the arts of necromancy," she answered. Her shoulders set in preparation of the battle she knew she was soon to enter. After all, she had asked for the instructor of one of the darkest possible arts to teach her. The way that Lylis paled with horror confirmed that she would have to fight the woman for this. "Before you tell me no, I need you to listen. No one here knows what to do with me. You've tried and failed. So has Mistress Merithyn and Master Davyth. You can read out of books the same as I have, but without knowing what you're doing, it does me no good. Telling me to test with my blood hasn't helped at all. I'm not progressing. I've been here nearly ten years, and I have gotten nowhere. Please. This is not a matter of becoming some evil traitor. It's a matter of keeping myself from becoming something that can be used against my will."

That gleam of terror was still prominent, but Noellyn knew she'd won. Lylis was merely unwilling to tell her. The older woman give the smallest nod of her head, then returned to her books, leaving Noellyn to dismiss herself.

Two weeks later, her new instructor arrived. He was known necromancer from Gloamwood, one who had joined in the fighting unwillingly when curses and rift portals began to overtake the area. With no home to return to, he was almost glad to teach a fellow shunned. He was dark to her pale, his hair a tangled black mess, eyes a fiercely dark blue that seemed to bear the same scowl that he wore on his scarred mouth. The first time he'd seen her, he called her a ghost and told her not to fade into nothingness. "Do you hide from the sun, or does it hide when it sees you?"

His name was Raoin Tallios and he was accompanied by a skeletal being in a black shroud, its jaw hung open, eye sockets wide, empty, and so dark that Noellyn shuddered when she looked at his creature. He was rude, chastising her for her ineptitude, then the teachers for being afraid of arts they knew nothing about. "Once upon a time necromancy was a fine art. When the heretics started their nonsense, that's when it became something evil. Now anyone who uses any sort of art the others don't understand or dislike, they're a heretic as well," he complained in between barking instructions at her. After her first day of lessons, he'd thrown his hands into the air in disgust and called her hopeless.

"Meet me tomorrow morning, bright and early. We're going into the woods, just you and me, and we're going to have a real lesson. None of this testing nonsense." He stalked away from her, leaving her with a sensation that she'd offended him in some way. If this was the best that Lylis could find, Noellyn feared she would never understand her potential. However, she went to the copse of wood, as he'd demanded, settling on a worn down stump as she waited for him to arrive. Diligently, she sat, waited. Hours passed without his appearing. The sun was starting to edge toward the distant mountains and leaving a streaking glow along the trees as it made its descent. Still, he didn't come. In disgust, she gathered her belongings – then belted out a scream as two rigid arms came around her in a tight grip. She struggled against whatever pulled at her, fighting to wriggle her way free and having no success in getting purchase in the ground with her feet. The pressure of the arms around her torso tightened instead. She gasped in pain, finding it also blocked her breathing off substantially. Her nails dug into the attacker's flesh with no successful response. She tried to bang her head back into theirs, but instead struck the meaty shoulder of a tall man. She never felt the thrum of heat suffusing through her as body throbbed in response to the attack. She never heard the initial yell as blood trickled from the man's eyes and ears, hot enough to hiss and leave burn marks along his skin. She realized something was amiss when the stranger released her to stumble back. His body heaved and he grasped at his throat, his chest, eyes going red as vessels burst. He backed away from her on a violent shudder, this filthy stranger with matted hair and scarred, puckered skin, who looked as though he could have taken her on and broken her twice over.

"What did you do to me," he demanded, but the words were bubbling as blood filled his throat to scald it. Her body heat was climbing to a feverish pitch, but it was nothing to his. She panted roughly while the heat of her power climbed inside of her, filled her. She could feel that power burn her as the blood in his body burned him from within. "What did you do," he bubbled out, then fell, dead, at her feet. When the man fell, his stomach burst and flicked her with remnants of his now dead cavity. She stared, dazed, at the body, then heaved in a breath to try and scream, even though her lungs still ached. "Good job, but sloppy," Raoin decided. He watched her nonchalantly from his perch against an aged oak. "You spent more time screaming at the man than actually focusing on hurting him. That tells me that your magic is mixed into your emotions … for now, anyway. We'll work on that."

Noellyn couldn't respond to him, her eyes wide and glazed, flecks of blood and more coating her from head to toe. A good douse of innards had stained her through from neck to knee, and now trickled down to coagulate at her feet. Raoin frowned as he reached over to remove a tag of skin from her cheek. "Nothing to say," he asked. "I killed him," she gasped out. A shiver rushed through her to take over. He made a sound of irritation, pushing her back to the stump to sit. "I killed him," she repeated as Raoin used his sleeve to wipe her face."Don't feel too much sympathy for him. He was a thief I paid off to attack you. He'd have murdered you if he had the chance. Not that he was good at that or even at thievery. He was a mercy killing."

"I killed him."

"You've killed goblins before. What's the difference between him and one of them?"

"I n-never... I never..." Her pale face turned away from the corpse at her feet. "I killed him."

"Yes," he said harshly. "You killed him. Congratulations. Get over it." He gave sharp slap to her cheek, strong enough that his hand print left a strong rosy mark. "You awake yet?"Noellyn's glazed eyes finally focused on him, as if seeing him for the first time. "You paid him off?" His nod had her exploding. She tried to swing at him, and he gave her another hard slap. She spat the resulting blood from her cut inner cheek into his face. He yelled, releasing her as the blood burned him. He wiped at his skin furiously, then stood there, glaring at her. She returned the glare, still trembling violently. "You paid him to murder me. Why would you do that?"

"I told you I would teach you. Besides, you were safe, he wasn't really going to kill you. You have to learn what you can do, and you've got some big, damn block in your head telling you that what you're doing is wrong. So I'm going for what I can get to – your emotions. You can't block those, can you?" He tapped a finger to her head, careful about touching her this time. "Once you've gotten around that block, we can move on. But for now, we focus on using your emotions to make you use your abilities. Got it?"

"I hate you," she hissed, mortified by the realization that tears had built up. "Good. I don't care. Go home and clean up, you look disgusting." He drew in a sharp breath, then curled his lip. "Smell that way, too. Tomorrow, we start on training you. Really training you." She almost fled, but pride caught her in place. With a look at the fresh corpse, she asked him, "What are you going to do with … with him?"

"I have plans for him, don't you worry. Now get back, wash up, and we'll talk later." He motioned her along with a dark look. "By the way, you're more powerful than you realized. You made him burn up from the inside in a minute. Not many people can do that, you know."


	12. Success and Loss

Raoin glared at her with disgust as he rounded about her, studying her. He'd been in fine form since the morning lesson had started, complaining about everything that came to his mind when it came to her studies. It had started when she'd made an offhand comment over his new guardian. His reaction was to tell her to shut up. Now, five hours later, she was still struggling to hold back a nasty headache that Raoin had helped create with his incessant nagging. As her head throbbed with misery, she finally asked, "Are you going to teach me or not? If I wanted to listen to a mule bray, I would borrow Mistress Merithyn's pack animal."

Raoin came up short before her. "Oh, excuse me, am I not moving fast enough for you? Too busy to listen to a wee bit of history, eh?" He jabbed a finger at her shoulder. "Fine. Get up, lazy oaf. Try to make me bleed."

Grimacing, she reared away from his prodding finger. "What? I can't do that. I'll hurt you."

"Coward. Simpleton."

"I am not."

"Then do it and stop your childish mewling," he barked at her. "You hate me. I feel it. Feed on that hate. Think about my blood." He watched her critically, focusing on her eyes. He knew exactly when she'd locked onto the steady pulse of his veins. There was a sharpness in her expression that gave her away. "Pull on it. You want it. It's calling you."

He'd kept his voice soft to keep from disrupting her focus, but his words skewered through her concentration. She blinked fiercly. "What? You want me to what?"

Raoin thumped her on the forehead, telling her, "Do it again, simpleton. Get locked onto the beat of my veins and pull when you think you have a grasp." She hesitated until he thumped her again. With a sound of agitation, she rubbed at her forehead, but fixed her eyes back onto the vein at his throat. She'd have loved to savagely rip at it and make him bleed in a far more painful way. Instead, she locked on the feeling of her body filling with the sensation of his heartbeat. It echoed loudly in her ears until her body throbbed, a familiar response that she actually accepted. With a tip of her head, she curled a finger into her palm as she mentally beckoned the blood toward her.

His nose splurted blood almost immediately. She gasped as the sensation dropped completely, then stiffened as she awaited his chastisement. Instead, he had a nasty grin on his face. He mopped away the blood, then studied his palm. "Good start. Notice how the anger gets you sizzling and you start thinking mean things? You can use them. You've been using your emotions, anyhow, but we'll worry about breaking you from that later."

With a push at her shoulder to force her back into her seat, he circled around her, explaining, "The thing about blood magic is you have control of one of the body's most essential things. It scares people to think about someone else controlling them. Fact is, other people control their lives in other ways, and they're too stupid blind to admit it. I can control death. Frightens the damnation out of people, which makes no sense. They're all going to die anyway. It's a nasty truth about life.

"But you... you get to control something about them while they're living and that just gets under their skin." He paused, chortled at his own unintentional joke. "So they're scared of you."

"I don't want them to be," she stated. "I don't like their fear."

"Maybe you don't now, but give it time. You'll enjoy it."

She glared at him, watching him as he circled around her again. "I'm not like you. I actually want to have friends." He stopped to give her a discerning look, one that made her ask him, "What are you looking at? What did I say?"

"Do you think I never had friends? Family? I had a wife and two children. I was happy once upon a time. At least, I was until the damned world tried to fall apart." Noellyn fell mute in shock. No, she'd never considered he might actually have been a parent. "The dragons came about, then traitors began appearing. Left and right, they were susceptible to what the dragons offered, and they would do anything to get it. Some went mad. Couldn't stand the dragon's voices." Raoin's hands shook, then his voice, as his rage filled him. "They took their families out, killed them. My wife was one of them. She killed my two sons, then fled. She was lured by the dragons."

"Which one?"

He tossed his head, acting unconcerned by such a thought, but a low moan of grief escaped. She wasn't sure if he realized he'd made the sound or not. "Crucia," he finally bit out. "The regal storm queen bitch." He wiped the back of his hand across his face as he turned away from her. "Once you get her in your mind, there's nothing else you can do. You are hers. If she told you to murder the love of your life, you'll do it. You become someone else completely." He took a few lengthy breaths to calm himself. "Once I lost my wife, I left Iron Pine, came to Gloamwood, and found the village was suffering loss of another sort." Raoin sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "You need to learn your ability, Noellyn. War is coming. It seems like something distant for now, but you're protected. Soon, we'll all be consumed."

He worked her through heightening her senses. He made her smell the coppery essence of fresh blood, then made her heat up the clumped brown stains on his skin, blistering him in reaction. He treated the injury himself, forcing her to keep on with the smallest of commands. Mostly, he had her centralizing on old blood, trying to make her use it for small effects. She'd already gotten down how to heat it up within an hour, but making the blood move was something she couldn't understand. She explained the fine mist that had always formed when her magic took over. He wanted her to create the mist, which she struggled to do with great effort. Once she'd created a small mass of misted blood, he wanted her to try to move it. This seemed impossible.

"If that's the best you can do, making it form up on something so it runs down, then you're not trying all that hard, are you?"

"I can't feel it," she complained for the seventh, or was it eighth, time. "It's dead. I can't feel dead blood."

"Then you damn well make it wake up! You sense what its purpose is. To bring life. Imagine it pulsing around through someone's body. Or your body. I don't care!"

"I can't imagine that. I've never seen it doing it, so how can I imagine it?"

He eyed her shrewdly as he growled, "Are you saying I should find another criminal and open him up so you'll see how it should run? Is that what you're saying?" He nodded when she blanched. "You don't like the killing bit, do you? Don't see why. It's protected you twice now. You have killed goblins before."

"Yes, but ... they're different. They're not ..." She stiffened, refusing to finish her thought. Raoin did it for her. He crouched in front of her, thumping her between the eyes roughly. With a cant of his head, he asked, "Not what? Living? Not here?" That shrewd look turned mean. "Or did you mean that they're not like you? Not human. So they don't matter."

"That isn't-"

He waved at her to be silent. "That's exactly what you mean. You think you're going to offend me with that opinion? I couldn't care less about your prejudices. I care little about anyone anyway, so what's one random girl's opinions to me? You want to kill goblins, we'll kill goblins. You want to kill fae, we can do that, too." He grabbed her chin in a hard grip, his thumb placed center to fix it in place. "Here's the thing, little princess. While you're busy being offended about the idea of killing someone like yourself, someone of mundane intelligence, they have no problem with killing you. Best you get that through your thick skull now." He freed her, giving her a slight push as he did.

Noellyn rubbed her jaw, suddenly shaken. She watched him with a cautious air as she gathered her things. He smiled nastily at her. "Class dismissed."

"I don't see why you can't just train under Lylis. You were doing so well before," Recht complained. He handed her half of his apple, then leaned back into the grass. "I've already heard odious things about that man. I can't believe Lylis would let you be taught by him."

"It was my decision," she reminded Recht. "I don't want to ever let what happened before happen again. I need a better control of myself."

Recht gave her a friendly pat to her shoulder as he reminded her, "I'm fine, though. I'm alive. It was my fault, anyway, for throwing the apple. I didn't actually expect anything to be there, or I never would have done it." He ran a hand along his hip, touching the scar that rested beneath his tunic. "By the way, I was able to talk Lylis into shortening your duty. I'm intending to take the other half of it, seeing as I was the reason we got attacked."

"You didn't have to do that," she admonished him. "I deserved the punishment."

He straightened up with a sigh. "Why do you deserve to be punished and not me? You really do have a problem with blaming yourself." He rolled his eyes toward her as he tucked a stray flower into her loose blonde hair, then bit into a slice of apple. "You don't have to take the whole of Telara's hatred on your own shoulders, Noe. You're not responsible for the dragons. You didn't cause rifts to open. You aren't the reason war has spread out, or why the Eth hate us. You didn't conjure the Bahmi up."

"I never said that I did," she retorted, but a smile worked its way forward. He winked at her, pleased to see her finally smiling. Since the incident, she had barely willed herself to smile. In fact, she had tried avoiding him until he'd finally cornered her, demanding to know what was going on. He was adamant to befriend her, had been adamant since he caught her admiring his drawings. He'd made a point to talk to her from there, to join himself to her hunting groups. He knew what she was, and was unconcerned with the others' talk about her. She was shy, considerate, and so very lonely. He understood that most of all, because even around others, he tended to feel the same.

So, he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, adding yet another flower to her hair. "Then stop acting like it," he countered. "By the way, your hair is particularly festive today. What's with all the flowers?" She froze, then began running her fingers through the length of her hair, knocking the dozens of blooms out of place. "Recht! What did you do," she demanded of him as she tried to pull the simple wild flowers out. Her hair now reached her lower back, so it was quite a lot of hair to draw over her shoulder and explore. Recht merely grinned, watching her with open glee. "You needed cheering up," he explained. "So I cheered you up."

"You mean you decorated me," she countered. He shrugged and leaned back again to gaze up at the clear sky. He had that dreamy look in his eyes, one she'd noticed he'd been wearing since leaving the healer's ward. "Aureyn again?"

Color suffused his face as he turned bashful. "I'm obvious, huh? I can't help it. She has the prettiest eyes. They're like ... flowers." He traced a finger through the air and went back to his daydreaming. Noellyn watched him with a discerning frown, thoughtful. Aureyn was of noble blood. She came from one of the great houses of Port Scion, connected to Prince Zareph through some line or another. She had creamy skin, striking blue eyes, and waving hair that was somewhere between red and gold. The other boys fell over themselves for her, though Noellyn couldn't see why. Aureyn wasn't particularly nice to others, especially other females. She downright hated competition, as the other females knew, and even treated their male counterparts as though they were in a fight for her hand. However, Noellyn already knew that Aureyn was betrothed. Not that it mattered to the boys, of course, since they were certain they could win her heart over.

There was a nudging concern that Recht would suddenly drop complete interest in his friendship with her, and that he'd devote all of it to Aureyn. Noellyn couldn't stop him if he wanted, of course, but that nagging concern was still there, especially when she was given a frigid stare from the other female. Knowing there was little she could do, she wisely left the matter alone.

"Raoin taught me how to use blood as a bandage today. It was grotesque, but it worked effectively. Especially once it dried. The only problem is getting the flow to stop behind the bandage and not leak out once it's begun to dry." She slanted a look over at Recht only to realize he'd not heard a word she'd said. The frown became annoyed. "He's also trying to teach me how to sicken someone's blood. He's going to teach me about the properties that poison and venom have on blood. We're going out tomorrow to test it, in fact."

Recht still gazed off at the sky with that stupid, smarmy expression of his. With a sigh, Noellyn gathered the wild flowers off her lap and dumped them on his chest. Recht startled, finally looking at her, bemused. "What was that for," he asked with a bubble of laughter.

"I'm not interested in sitting here while you pine after someone. It's boring," she stated. "And I do have other things to do." Recht grabbed for her hand to keep her from leaving, giving her a friendly tug back over. He looked worried, and she couldn't understand why until he asked her, "Does it bother you that I have feelings for Aureyn? She told me you have feelings for me, and I appreciate that you do. You know I care for you as a friend, too, but I would never try to replace your friendship with my feelings for her."

She stared at him while comprehension slowly seeped in. With a yank, she pulled free while color tried to fill her cheeks. Of all the ridiculous things for him to say! "I don't have feelings for you! I'm bored of watching you stare at the sky, like it holds some great mysteries. When you get over your fascination, maybe then we can actually hold a conversation. In the meantime, I have things to learn."

Recht called after her, but she was too incensed to listen to him at this point. Had he even bothered to ask her how she might feel? No, he simply took the word of some stranger, because she was pretty. Noellyn was the only one who knew how she felt, and she had no romantic desires for him or anyone else. Why would she ever want that sort of nonsense, seeing as where she came from and what she was? She would never want to spread her curse to some poor, defenseless child. And romance, pfah! Trusting another person was difficult, especially to the point of intimacy. Plus, and here was the greatest rub of all, what if she sickened them somehow? She didn't know how exact her abilities were, even when trained. After being told that she was poison, why would she ever take that chance?

She had fled to the copse that Raoin now taught her at, the little haven of trees able to keep her hidden from the pathway. She didn't even realize where she'd been running to until she was there, softly panting, with a large blue flower still clenched in her fist. The petals were crushed to the point that her palm was stained a soft violet color. She stared at the delicate thing with regret before she dropped it to the ground.

"Hey!" Recht slid through the thicket of bushes that had concealed her. "Why did you run off from me? I didn't mean to upset you."

She tried to squash down the resentment at the realization that she no longer had her little haven. "Well, you did," she retorted, arms crossed low across her middle. "I don't have that sort of feeling for you. I never have, but you accept that I should, which is insulting." His expression went from soft to offended quick, but she ignored that little tug of warning. "Aureyn is using you for your attention, but all you see is pretty flower blue eyes. I bet if you really paid her great attention, you'd see she's just a noble snob who doesn't like anyone. But, no, you want to listen to her hissing about me, instead."

"She's just curious about you," he defended.

"No, she wants to know about the freak so she can make fun of me. Why should she be different from the rest of them? Can't you just be my friend without making things so complicated?"

"If anyone is making it complicated, then you are," he returned, his face going red. "That's a horrible thing to say about Aureyn! She's been nothing but nice about you. I didn't realize your jealousy ran that deep."

She gaped at him, too stunned to respond at first. When he made to leave, though, she grabbed for his arm. "I am not jealous of her, and you're the one who accused me of harboring feelings. If you like her, fine. But I miss having my friend actually talk and listen to me."

He retorted, "Then you are jealous."

She had to hold her tongue as she fought to calm down. "No... not in the way that you think. If I am jealous, it's that she can woo so many stupid boys over so easily-"

There was a darkness about him almost immediately. With glare at her, he advanced. She actually felt afraid of him, something she'd never believed possible, not of Recht. "I am not a stupid boy. I'm in love with her. You're blinded by your hatred of her." He looked her over, disappointed and disgusted, before leaving her there to sit in silence. She wanted to run after him immediately and beg him not to stop being her friend. They had only been so for two months, but he'd become so dear to her. Recht was stubborn, though. He needed time, that was all.

"People are stupid, aren't they?"

She looked around swiftly, but didn't see anyone. Not at first. The ragged chuckle made her look up at a wild-eyed stranger who nestled above her in the fork of an oak tree's branches. "Your little boyfriend thinks he's in love now, but someday he'll realize. Not that it matters, does it? By the time he does, it'll all be over."

The woman slithered down the branches, as fluid as silk running along its knobbed trunk. Noellyn backed away with alarm, but the stranger came up short. They sized each other up, each of them taking the other in. The woman's hair was a furious red color, almost matching her eyes. There were symbols along her skin that didn't look like tattoos. They looked too natural. Her skin was pale, too pale, and seemed to glisten with frost. When she smiled, her teeth were jagged.

Noellyn's breath hitched. "Are you-?

"Shhh." The woman put her finger to her lips. "You'll give us away, Noellyn Jael."

"That's not my name."

"Isn't it?" Her laughter was brittle, and made Noellyn think of icy claws scribbling over her spine. "No matter what you think, you don't truly know a thing. Not yet. I'm certain that's why he's interested in you." The woman bowed, and, in the blink of an eye, was standing before Noellyn, those icy fingers wrapped around her jaw, right beneath her chin. The woman's smile was full of insanity. "Shame that you're already marked, or I'd have you for my own."

Those fingers squeezed tighter to bruise the pale flesh.

"Now run."

The wild laughter followed her. Even as she slammed the door of her hovel shut, she could hear the cruel, taunting glee in the woman's (dragon's?) voice.


	13. Fire Rift

That evening, the darkening sky felt heavier than usual. The heat was sizzling enough that electric storms had begun over the ocean and was sweeping inward with every hot gust of wind. Raoin eyed the sickly green clouds above with a critical eye. They made him uneasy, and he wasn't the only one to feel the disquiet in the air. Something was coming.

He'd stacked his minions' bones, checked them for decay before he'd reanimated each of them. Their bones had clicked against each other as they'd reformed. One direction from him, and they had each taken a sword in their fragile hands. They would sit, wait, silent guardians with their gaping sockets and fallen jaws, until the command was given for them to attack. Raoin prayed he wouldn't have to give the command, however. How could he protect such green leaves, still learning their way through Telara? His own useless protégé was hardly ready to face pathetic goblins, how could she face the insanity of the dragons?

His unease had him fixed at the window, staring at the protective wards that were being placed up and around their haven by the instructors. Useless. Pathetic. They would be broken into, surely they had to know that. His lips curled with contempt as he forced himself to step away from the window. Flight was the only answer, he'd decided. What point was there in uselessly dying here and now?

He'd just reached for his staff when his door banged open, and Noellyn stumbled into his hut. Her movements were jerky, hair in a disarray from the constant dragging of her fingers through the pale mess. Her gaze stuttered over him, then off to wherever it could briefly land before jerking to the next object of focus. Shock. He could see it in the way her pupils had dilated and the stilted movement of her actions. "Noellyn?" It was the first time he'd used her name. It would be the only time. He reached toward her, at first meaning to clasp her shoulder. Instead, he grabbed hold of her jaw and gave her the slightest wobble. "Hey. Snap out of it."

She shook herself free of his loose grip. "I have-. I saw-. I-in the woods. There was something out there. But you won't believe me if I tell you." His raised brows made her hesitate again. She felt as though she were on the verge of a dream or insanity. "I think I just met a dragon."

He snorted disbelief. "Is that what you think? Why?" He nudged her roughly toward a chair, forcing her to sit so she wouldn't keep wobbling. He listened to her small story without betraying any reactions. Once finished, he told her, "You didn't meet a dragon. Likely you met one of their minions."

"No, you don't understand. Her eyes weren't eyes. They were nothing but red, like-"

"Rubies? Yeah. I've seen their type before. But usually she prefers pretty boys." Since his reaction caused her to give him a baffled shake of her head, he growled a sigh out as he explained, "There are some who are so devout to those bastards, that they are granted use of certain powers. The dragon channels their power through their chosen creatures, keeping them from having to actually touch down on Telara, and still have control over the land. There is one dragon who loves to scoop out the eyes of her prey, and replace them with rubies. They are mindless, devout, and loving. Until she forgets about them completely, and moves on to her next prey, leaving them weak and defenseless."

"But she said she wanted to see why he wanted me."

He countered, "Because, you are considered a desirable pet already. They're curious about you. You'd know if it truly was a dragon. You would feel the effects of being near them." He had to stop and wipe sweat from his face as the heat from outside began to pervade at a furious rate. "I think you need to get back to your home and wait out this storm-"

There was a fierce crash from outside as lightning struck once, twice, thrice at the same spot within the center of the academy's grounds. The wind listed off, leaving the unbearable warmth behind. Raoin's eyes widened with alarm as he gripped Noellyn's wrist, yanking her away from the door. "Get back," he hissed at her, ignoring her wince of pain. He knew, even before the wind suddenly picked back up, he knew exactly what to expect outside that door.

The booming strike of heat had turned the building into a sudden sauna and he'd never realized it until the sweat had begun to pour. Those precious minutes could have saved them from being caught in the opening rift. Now, it was too late to make their escape. He slammed the door open with a call to his minions as a ring of lava opened above the academy grounds. The skeletal figures charged after him with their swords raised to attack. Already, other students and instructors were pouring out as balls of fire speared from the reddened heavens to slam furiously into the dry ground. Small volcanic pits formed to belch out demons of flame, who danced and burned the ground beneath them. One instantly rushed to a mob of students, and was blasted with a peal of wind created by one of the smarter individuals. Not that it held the demon at bay for long. It snatched at the air, turned it into a furnace that swept over the small crowd and had them dispersing. The demon breathed flames outward to catch two of them on fire. One of the teachers stormed forward to pelt the demon with ice, which forced it back while another pelted it with a collecting storm and another still was binding the burning creature with spirit magic.

There was a sudden rush of water from behind Raoin as one of the instructors swept her wand out across the field. Many of the demons hissed and guttered, or their magma-like skin cooled to hardened stone. However, most of the water turned into boiling steam once it touched them, causing most everyone to have to retreat. Raoin came behind the woman, mentally willing his two guardians to attack as he came behind the woman spewing water. "Start up a rain," he called to her. "Maybe if it comes from above, it'll bog up the area and keep the steam from spreading."

She glanced at him, nodded, and drew the wand upward to collect another storm above their heads. Now that the rain was coming from their heads, the steam was combated against, and the demons were withdrawing from the field of mud that had been created. Others were beginning to circle around the opened rift, stopping what they could of the flames. Lava had begun to spit out, but was being clogged up by two students tossing the freshly created mud at the small pit. Others were helping turn the tide against the elemental heat that had been created.

His two guardians entered the fray with mindless abandon, their armor heating swiftly and melting from the bones that charred, then burned, and turned into ash. He roared at the burning demon who had engulfed his two protectors. Its burning eyes fixed on him as a burp of fire rose above its flaming head. It stalked toward him only to have wind press back at it. He charged against the demon with a swing of his staff and had the dark ash encasing the demon. It hissed and fizzled as it escaped back into the lava pits nearby.

There was a wild cry of attack as a handful of ruby-eyed boys appeared, rushing at them, attacking whomever they came to first. Their yells were full of abandoned glee, their young faces marred with hatred. There had to be twenty, thirty of them, all of their eyes a furious red that shone bright and empty. The students who had held back from the fighting now had no choice but to join in. It was chaos. He tried as best as he could to focus on the teenagers, who had become the focus of the jewel eyed attackers. It was difficult with the smoke, ash, and the rising stench of burning flesh confusing his senses. Twice he received fierce burns along his back and legs, and still was unable to stop even as the pain ate into him.

Everything had dissolved into widespread panic as a round of young fighters in training came from the nearby battle grounds to protect their physically weaker counterparts. He knuckled blood from his eyes as he rushed over to a young red-haired girl in half armor, her great sword reared back to swing at one of the red eyed attackers. The boy giggled and stroked flame along the ground toward her, but Raoin slammed his staff in the way of the fire, forcing it back with a wave of dark energy. The boy leapt over the path and jumped at them only to have the sword meet his gut, spearing him through. The girl shoved him back with fierce determination, gave Raoin a sweeping grin of thanks, before she charged forward to attack another assailant.

He rushed away from the dying boy on the ground with a grim thought of dissecting his eye cavities later, and began to seek out Noellyn. He had forgotten her in all the chaos, but now he felt a tug of concern. Had she even left the safety of his hut?

In the mass chaos, it was hard to make out anything. His eyes were blurred from tears caused by the plumes of thick smoke and rising ash. The school - both teacher and student - were turning the tide against the war, but there was already a list in energy, he could tell. They had never battled to this extreme, and now that their endurance was flagging, it was left to the fighting academy to protect those who had begun to lose their aetheric hold. There was a shift of movement, a pale head rising in the heat of the battle.

Beside her, the red-haired fighter stood, holding a tall figure at bay, the great sword wielded with fierce endurance. The creature was scale and sinew, leathery wings spread to cast the flames in a circle around the area. An arrangement of horns decorated her once human head in the form of a warped crown. The beastly woman pulled in her massive wings, then stretched them out in a hard sweep of air. Her hands swept out to grab for the sword, but the young fighter dodged the great hand and pierced in at the stomach, where it scrabbled along protective scales and found a weakness just beneath the abdomen at the former woman's navel.

The creature shrieked to feel hard iron slice into its stomach. As its blood dribbled down, the acrid stench of sulfur rose. There was a hard gleam of red as the rift began to close in on itself. It created a vacuum that pulled at the blazing heat inward - an oven that sucked the oxygen from the area. He could see Noellyn struggling to breathe as she raked her hand along the hot air. Blood streamed from multiple cuts and burns, her hair now nothing but singed ends atop her skull. There was a final implosion that caused an outward explosion. It knocked back everyone within close range, including Raoin.


	14. War

**Sorry that it has taken a longer amount of time to put something up. As the holidays have come, life has become hectic. I'm hoping to get back  
on track with the story and move on to the ascension within the next two chapters. **

\- The aftermath of the fire storm was immense. A few of the buildings had been damaged beyond repair, Noellyn's home among them. Seven lives were lost in the heat of the battle, as well. Only two of them had been redeemed from the gods. Their bodies had had the least damage done to them. The other five bodies had been scored through with fire to the point of incineration, and had been taken from the school grounds to be prayed over, in hopes the gods would consider ascension. Aylis had gone with his sister's body, grief stamped on his features as he held her limp hand.

Rothvyn had heard of the attack only an hour earlier, and had charged down to the school grounds as swiftly as he could. Every bright red head he'd seen had caused his heart to squeeze until he finally found Terces, her face alight with excitement as she spoke with a pale girl whose hair had been mostly singed off. He barely took note of the girl as he swept his daughter into his arms for a fierce hug, grateful to find her alive, intact, and momentarily safe. Still, he had to ask, "You are fine?"

Terces grabbed hold of her father's wrists when he cupped her cheeks. He gazed into the dual hued eyes, one green and the other blue, love swamping him as he placed a kiss to her forehead. She laughed with embarrassment and answered, "I'm fine, really. Noellyn here helped take down that creature. I thought we were done for when the wings were sprouted, but she did something to it, caused it to bleed I think. It got distracted with her and gave me a chance to spear it through." She didn't notice her father's sudden stiffness, nor how his lips had thinned into a pale line and his eyes had gone blank. Noellyn, however, did. She watched him carefully as he assessed her. While she was used to such stares, she had never seen such fear radiating from someone as from this man.

Rothvyn felt squeezed into place by the girl's stare. She was delicate, her face marred by streaks of ash, and those eyes were a piercing blue that were so like his own. He could see the resemblance in their features, which brought a fist to his stomach. She had his chin, he realized, and his high forehead. Even the way their eyes crinkled was astonishingly alike. The realization made him feel sick enough that he forced a smile and suggested to Terces, "We should leave the girl to rest. She's had a tiring evening. Besides, there's something we need to discuss."

"Father?" She winced at the tension of his hand at her upper arm. There was no pain, it was the terror she saw that caused her to cringe. "Father, are you okay?"

"Yes. By the gods, yes, I am." He dabbed at his suddenly sweat-coated brow. "We must go, however." He barely deigned to nod to Noellyn, and utterly refused to speak to her. The girl, the tainted thing, sat there with wariness as they passed.

"Father, that was rude of you," Terces began, but was cut off as Rothvyn told her, "You must never speak to that girl again, Terces, do you hear me? There are things about her that you don't know, and that you don't want to know. There's something wrong with her. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Her jaw came forward in a mutinous slant. Yes, his daughter truly could be like her mother, and this was one time he wished she would just listen and accept. If she were to ever learn who that girl was, he couldn't begin to know what she, or he, might do. "Terces, please," he wheedled. "I don't do this out of anger our harshness. The girl is ..." he fought for a reason, and finally landed on the truth, though he was loathe to use this form instead of the real objection of his terror. "She uses blood magic, a foul ability that I would worry she might use on you, whether intentional or not."

"Surely that's something that she can't help. Not all people choose such wicked paths." Terces might strive for kindness, but he could see that glimmer of disgust forming already. It wounded him that he had to turn his daughter's heart in such a foul way, and at the same time brought relief so swift that he was left with a sensation of lightheadedness. He merely touched her cheek, sorrowful, and admonished her, "Those who are born in the darkness care rarely ever wander toward the light. You know this, my girl. Best that you devote your time to your studies and practices, and not worry so much about the ... the girl over there."

Much as Terces strived to fight against the ingrained prejudice, it was winning her over. This time, when she looked toward Noellyn, it was with a deep frown that bordered on contempt. Noellyn flushed hot pink. She knew exactly what Terces had been told. With that familiar seep of bitterness, she left father and daughter to their private discussion, and instead sought to help clean away the debris as best as she could.

News of war began to travel the area three days later. Many of the students were now seeking to join in. Only those who were underage were kept behind. At first, the rumors were misconstrued so that no one could make sense of what was going on. The students whispered that the dragons had taken over the whole of Telara, hence the reason for the dark storms that had taken over Port Scion. Then there were rumors that the elven king had been the reason for the dark storms that had begun to spread. Bit by bit, more information leaked in as armies amassed to fight something far worse. Regulos had been freed when the ward had been weakened, and the new King Aedraxis Mathos - the ruler of the Mathosians - had become his physical manifestation. A blight had formed over Port Scion, and now people were battling on Prince Zareph's side against the opening and against Alsbeth, now the second hand to Regulos.

Even the Eth, who had turned their backs on the gods and the Mathosians, were struggling to fight off the Shade. There were rumors that they had found a means to create ascended, something that the gods had been able to do alone. Now it seemed they, too, had the means. It seemed no one truly knew who to attack, and that Port Scion was doomed to be lost to the mad King Aedraxis.

Raoin had finally healed, and almost immediately joined in the battle with a renewed determination. Noellyn had seen him off in silence, watching as he'd walked down the pathway to Quicksilver College, where he would join the others in heading to Port Scion. She had seen Recht off, too, with a final cry of farewell, and a plea for forgiveness. He'd been softer in his farewells, and had hugged her relentlessly before he'd finally been called off. Afterward, she'd returned back to her new hut, and had cried until her throat ached and was overtaken by exhaustion.

Not even a week later, the destruction of Port Scion happened. It was Noellyn's seventeenth birthday. She had listened to the news with grief as even more of her fellow students joined in to head to war. So far, she had hesitated. The madness of what was happening was becoming more prominent in the opening of portals all over. Not a day passed that something dire wasn't happening. Even now, with Regulos freed again, death tried to lay claim of the land to the point that some areas had been scored black. Trees now listed, leafless and bent, warped by the dragon's touch. Food was scarce, and hunting was difficult with the legions of zealots stomping through the area.

Noellyn fought when expected. She hunted as needed. There was no longer a shred of normalcy in the encampments, not when they continuously saw the stretch of battle around them. Blood had stained the brick a disgusting brown and now no one dared walk alone around the academy. They had learned the treachery of that when seven students had been kidnapped ten yards away from the dining hall. By the end of the year, there were seven students and two instructors left. Destruction had torn down the remainder of the academy until only two buildings were left behind. The whole academy was being moved to the Quicksilver College, where the protection of the wards there would hold stronger than these set in nature. The day's trip was one of arduous treachery, as they were attacked three times on the way down the narrow path. By the time they actually reached the college, they'd lost two more people, and had been direly injured that those remaining had been rushed off to be tended to, Noellyn among them.

It took two weeks of recuperation before she was allowed from her bed. When she was instated in one of the dorms, it came with the surprise of Lord Unth. He seemed to have aged in the few years since she had last seen him, but his detached air was the same. He barely nodded before he was rising, hands clasped behind him. "I have kept watch on your health," he stated without even a perfunctory hello. "In my opinion, it is time that you join in the battle."

"M-my lord?"

She gaped at him as her scattered thoughts tried to fall clear. Of all the reasons for his visit, she should have expected this. However, she'd thought he'd finally washed his hands of her, so why would she expect he would anticipate her joining an army?

"You are seventeen now, you are adept enough to go into battle. You know enough intricacies of your abilities to be useful. You have a duty to the gods, Noellyn."

She didn't know why she said it, but the words were out of her mouth before she realized they were even there - "I don't have a choice, do I? This is the whole reason you raised me, was to use me." As soon as they'd come out ,she regretted them. She expected to be struck out at, and cringed in reaction. Instead, she merely got a cool, "Yes." When she raised her head again, Matteson was smirking.

"There has never been another reason to keep you, if truth be told. We knew for some time that the cracks in the ward were spreading. We had seen the decay set by the dragons years ago. The return of their followers creating havoc had only begun to grow when your heathen mother took to joining them. You have always been a tool in the making. Now that you have reached the age, it is time that the tool be used as anticipated." He took in her stunned silence, head canted. "What more did you expect? You may have buried your head deep into your miserable world, longing for some form of rescue from your pathetic life. Now you are grown enough to realize that life is a series of duties, and your time has come to do your duty."

She flew at him, all rage, fists raised. She had always taken him for stoic, even cold-hearted. How was it she could still be this shocked by him, even after all those years of being told of her duty to the gods? Her fists were caught and held back. His mouth curled and his eyes blazed with hatred as he pushed her away, then wiped his palms clean along the front of his vest. He took the time to adjust his garments before addressing her again. "Let me put this in a clearer meaning - you have already been chosen for duty. You leave tomorrow. But have no fear, dear girl, you won't go alone. You will have a familiar companion, one of my choosing. I am not as cold as to think of your comforts, after all."

He withdrew a letter from his pocket to place on her bedside. "This will be farewell. I have no interest in seeing you again, nor do I anticipate that I will. Go with the Vigil, Noellyn, and know that they have your best interest in heart." With that cruel smile still in place, he left her to read the letter, knowing her curiosity would get the best of her.

 _Dear Noellyn,_

 _I requested this letter be given to you on your eighteenth birthday. Should you receive it before then, it is because I've died or because it was necessary to be given to you before your eighteenth birthday. You will have questions as to why you were never raised by your parents. Your mother could not - she was quite ill, both mentally and physically. Your father had not the means to raise you. You should show compassion in your heart for them, for they did have your best interests in heart, and saw that you were raised under the care of Lord Matteson Unth. You are now a young woman. You have dealt with your affliction for these long years, and now it's time to prove you are a gift of the gods. You may have been touched by the cold hand of Akylios, but he does not possess you. It's wise that you remember this as you go forth in life. You can be the greatest tool the gods have possession of, be their hand instead._

 _Sincerely,  
The Watcher of Stormfall_

The Watcher of Stormfall? She read the whole of the letter a fifth time through, none of it making sense to her, and at the same time making far too much sense. She would almost believe Lord Unth of writing such drivel. However, the tone was too kind to be of his making. She folded the letter up to tuck into her pocket, and sat there, trying to understand what she'd just been thrust into. As before, she had stopped understanding her life.


End file.
